Skinny Love
by Archristol
Summary: Come on skinny love just last the year... / Definition: Love that's too skinny to survive. It's not properly fleshed out and is doomed to failure. / Femslash. Morrigan&FCousland. / "...Full of passion, emotion, struggle!" - geler7 / "...Writing style still mystifies me and makes my being shudder..." - Sarion / "...Addicting and painful in all the right ways." - Lord Tubbington
1. Chapter 1 Stars

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_Minor Edit: March 22nd, 2014_

**A Very Brief Overview for New Readers**

1. Drama materializes beginning in chapter 4; Morrigan realizes her budding feelings.  
>2. Then simmers at chapter 6; somewhat happy days.<br>3. Then returns to a boil at chapter 9; Morrigan is reminded of her true nature.  
>4. Then eventually erupts onwards; a darker side begins to manifest.<p>

And please use this mix I created if you would like to save time from searching. It contains all the songs featured in this story. Just replace -dot- with a . because FF is being a betch. tinyurl -dot- com / skinnylovesongs

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><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

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><p>Chapter 1 - <strong>Stars<strong>

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><p><em>I can give it all on the first date,<br>I don't have to exist outside this place,  
>And dear know that I can change.<em>

[-]

Inactive blue glass eyes slowly opened.

_It was blurry._

So its feminine eyelashes helped flicker the eyesight to a fix. And they discovered a flimsy wooden ceiling hovering above, faintly illuminated.

_Possibly… A shack? Dawn or dusk?_

Thoughts scrambled for an explanation, hurting when it jogged rampantly. For certain, the mind knew of itself.

_Ophelia Cousland. A noblewoman, rogue, and… Grey Warden._

Suddenly, the thought was interrupted.

"Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother should be pleased," a familiar woman's voice encouraged. Ophelia could hear the floor creak as she ambled closer.

_Someone's mother? The one who took the Grey Warden treaties. Flemeth… Was it? And her daughter; that voice…_

Ophelia's irises tracked the source of the bold articulation, past her limp arms, the ruffled blankets, and unto the face of a mage equal her age.

_Morrigan… She had been saved and cared for._

She bent her upper body, enough to eye the woman, eagerly inquisitive, "Your mother… She saved me?" There was a brief pause as she held some digits on a temple. _Saved her from…_ "Wait––what happened to the darkspawn?"

Morrigan regarded her with concern – _but limited patience, _"You were injured then mother rescued you, yes. And, to answer your second question, the man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle," she continued carefully, "Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend… He is not taking it well."

The Grey Warden's eyes widened to an extent, "You mean Alistair? Is he alright?"

"The suspicious, dim-witted one who was with you before, yes. He is outside by the fire, just fine. Mother asked to see when you awoke," Morrigan quickly shifted topics, hoping to be dismissed.

"Why did your mother save us, exactly?" and another question. _Oh, but the woman had merely awakened. She deserved a few more answers._

"I wonder at that myself, but she tells me nothing. Perhaps you were the only ones she could reach," in her wish to not be interrogated further, she decided to tease lightly, "I would have rescued your king. A king would be worth a much higher ransom than you."

Ophelia, not completely despaired by the events, shot back, "I happen to be nobility, you know."

"I stand corrected," the witch admitted with a straight face, but her golden globes twinkled with humor.

"Hmm, well… Thank you, Morrigan. For everything," Ophelia said, in her usual courtesy.

Morrigan was genuinely heart warmed to a degree._ That civility she performed previously... And she remembered her name._ "I… You are welcome."

The Warden reclined on the bed she rested, eyes lost again on the roofing, "I'll be out in a while. I… I want to rest my head for a couple more minutes, if you don't mind."

"No, I do not mind," Morrigan assured. She circled the bed then tapped on a wooden container – to which Ophelia peeked, "Your belongings are in this chest, once you are ready."

Morrigan left when she received a nod from the reposed platinum blonde head. Unknown to her, its brain reviewed the information gathered in a whirlwind.

_Morrigan and her mother could be trusted, for the moment. Though, they would have an initial intent for saving them – this, she was fairly confident of. And Loghain quit the field. Not entirely unexpected, as she had foreseen the shady resolve in his eyes. The gravity of the betrayal, however, was inconceivable – it meant that Duncan and King Cailan were dead – manipulated to be intentionally left for dead. They were murdered, just the same. In addition to her… Family… Especially, her mother and father…_

[-]

_But if stars, shouldn't shine,  
>By the very first time,<br>Then dear it's fine, so fine by me,  
>'Cause we can give it time,<br>So much time,  
>With me.<em>

[-]

"Wow! This place is swarming with refugees," a Templar spoke with mock shock. Ophelia couldn't care less as he plotted with a whisper, "We should pretend to get lost... Then run for the hills when the coast is clear, leaving the _evil _witch behind." He sounded extra excited at that last phrase.

Her dog, Nutella, barked conversationally as they walked. The Mabari was rescued by Flemeth as well, much to her joyful surprise.

"You're _so_ funny, Alistair," she deadpanned, "But I'm _rea~lly_ too tired to play hide and seek. Not after those bogus toll collectors, anyway. Give me an hour or so to recover, at least."

"Oh c'mon!" Alistair hunched in disappointment. He was_ very disappointed._ That plan was the most perfect plan out of his long list of "Ditch the Witch" schemes and his leader didn't give a rat's ass. _Unless the rat happened to be Morrigan. What she saw in her, he couldn't grasp._

The inseparable trio walked together, with the sorceress as their third wheel (which she preferred, nonetheless.) Flemeth had offered Morrigan to be a part of their team for purposes of assistance in their quest to end the Blight. The elderly woman was quite content with the exchange, and her obedient daughter quite the opposite. Either way, Ophelia agreed to let her tag along for the sole excuse that it couldn't hurt. _And if it did, she would be prepared. _She considered Morrigan's advice, and they traveled onwards to Lothering in a couple of hours with bandits as their only obstacle. Alistair had been quiet for most of the period, save for the times he conspired against the loner. He was back in good spirits once they reached their destination, despite Morrigan's witty remarks to shoot him back down.

It was now noon and the Warden's starving, and thus – easily irritated. In which case, when they neared the end of the crowd and found a merchant squabbling with a Chantry lady over prices, Ophelia was absolutely frustrated. She led her group to interfere when the man shoved the protester aside.

"It's so nice to see everyone working together in a crisis. Warms the heart," Alistair first gained their bothered attention with his intrusion. Ophelia studied the turmoil with a fold of her armored arms.

"You there! You look able. Would you care to make a tiny profit helping a beleaguered businessman?" the trader referred to her, smirking optimistically.

She shrugged, "Get rid of the _tiny_ part, and I'll consider it." Her posture and tone hinted at restricted negotiation.

"A-ha! I'm not the only one with some business sense," the bearded man chuckled proudly.

A whiny grumble came from the Chantry woman, "He is charging outlandish prices for things people desperately need! Their blood is filling his pockets!"

"'Tis only survival of the fittest. All of these cretins would do the same in his shoes, given the chance," Morrigan chimed in.

The merchant added to his defense, "I have limited supplies. The people decide what those supplies are worth to them."

"You bought most of your wares from these very people last week! Now they flee for their lives, and you want to talk business?" the nagging lady cried for pity.

"Look, stranger. I've a hundred silvers if you'll drive this rabble off, starting with that priest. I'm an honest merchant, nothing more," he declared, conclusive.

"Add a discount and you have a deal," Ophelia firmly insisted.

"Fine. Drive off this woman and get your hundred silvers, plus a twenty percent discount."

The two debating individuals were examined thoroughly before she announced, "Alright, let me talk to her."

She directed everyone to wait before she politely steered the priest away to speak privately. Once they were distant from earshot, she shushed the whining woman then sympathized with her, "Listen closely. My name is Ophelia, and I am a Grey Warden. Believe it or not, I'm here to help you." The lady sighed then nodded, still with an ill-tempered expression but noiseless. "The man offered one hundred silvers. Now, I can give you that money to divide amongst the poor folk, if you promise to be silent," she signaled a stopping hand when she predicted an objection, "Or you can leave it up to me to gather the necessary supplies for them, I will be able to collect more with the discount. Lothering will most likely be swallowed up by the darkspawn once my group leaves this place. Until then, you can seek me out if this is not enough. As for the merchant, leave him to feel triumphant about the situation. With it, I can haggle a bit more if needed. Understood?" She gazed upon her with a kind ardor that was calming.

The older woman trusted her reassuring words and bobbed her head in gratitude, "I await for your return then, Grey Warden. Thank you for this generous assistance."

"Don't thank me yet," Ophelia hid a smile as she reverted back to her playacting – and discovered Morrigan observing her dubiously.

[-]

_And I can draw the line on the first date,  
>I'll let you cross it,<br>Let you take every line I've got,  
>When the time gets late.<em>

[-]

After her little service, Ophelia made priority of her stomach and headed to the next most sensible stop – or the closest thing that looked like a place to eat – Dane's Refuge. When they entered, all she wanted to do was find the nearest perishable food (that would replace the bitterness, from the Witch of the Wild's stew, lingering in her tongue) and choke herself to death by pigging out on it, maybe. What she totally didn't expect to run into were Loghain's lapdogs, accusing them for the King's death and informing them of their scattered lies throughout Ferelden. She was almost too happy to beat their faces to a pulp and send them packing with a message for Loghain. A Chantry sister, who forcibly helped them, demanded to come with for reasons of a vision. Morrigan and Alistair shared their disfavors, but Ophelia only granted her wish, even without an elaboration, due to exhausted exasperation – _and because she was kind of cute_. They switched introductions and identified her name to be Leliana, a bard from Orlais.

Not too long after their second quarrel in town, and minor break, they went ahead to do some more benevolent errands – which Ophelia said she required to burn calories and gain several silvers in the process. Alistair and Leliana were easily glad to help. The mage, on the other hand, threw a few scoffs here and there before she did as she was told.

On the way to their next assignment, they encountered a caged Qunari by the name of Sten, who murdered a family, including the children. Funnily, Morrigan suggested to free him out of mercy. Not simplistic to set him at liberty, Ophelia asked him to compensate for his crimes by helping them against the Blight. The gigantic man settled for her offer, and she acquired the necessary permission for his freedom.

What was a party of three, plus dog, was now a party of five, plus dog.

[-]

_But if stars, shouldn't shine,  
>By the very first time,<br>Then dear it's fine, so fine by me,  
>'Cause we can give it time,<br>So much time,  
>With me.<em>

[-]

Evening was finally at hand. During their excursions in and around Lothering, they managed to eradicate the rest of the troublesome bandits, rid the town of bears and spiders, and report a woman's death.

They were back at the refuge's crowded bar and ate supper together at a large table. Initially, Morrigan and Sten were reluctant to conform and join them, but after a little persuasion, they took their seats. Ophelia used this opportunity for a time to know each other and did so with the help of purchased liquor. Alistair seemed to be having a man conversation with Sten, while the women chatted on the opposite edge – with Leliana doing most of the talking.

"I'm wondering Morrigan... Do you believe in the Maker?" Leliana asked, curious.

Morrigan stirred her food for no apparent goal, looking somewhere else, "Certainly not. I've no primitive fear of the moon such that I must place my faith in tales so that I may sleep at night," then she devoured a spoonful, avoiding eye contact.

"But this can't all be an accident. Spirits, magic, all these wondrous things around us both dark and light," Leliana pushed, eyeing Morrigan studiously.

Not to be dislodged, Morrigan retorted, "The fact of their existence does not presuppose an intelligent design by some absentee father-figure."

"So it is all random, then? A happy coincidence that we are all here?" she tried for a second time.

The witch described pragmatically, "Attempting to impose order over chaos is futile. Nature is, by its very nature, chaotic."

"I don't believe that. I believe we have a purpose. All of us." A hopeful air emitted from Leliana.

And the air rapidly got vacuumed away. "Yours, apparently being to bother me."

When the talkative woman figured she was being disregarded, she looked at Ophelia, "What about you, Ophelia? Surely you believe in the Maker."

"Of course," Ophelia uttered seriously, "I believe in our father's testicles," then she imbibed a mouthful of wine.

Leliana leaned in, unconvinced of what she heard, "Our father's wha–––?" dumbfounded, she sunk into her chair, giggling quite irrepressibly, "Why I've never even thought of it that way!"

A swift chuckle also escaped from Morrigan, "Now _that_ is a more tangible Maker to give credence, if there ever happened to be a parallel dimension where I revered in one." She stopped scrutinizing her plate and glimpsed at the woman beside her who made the comment. What she caught her doing reignited the intensifying dislike she held for the comedian, "Stop looking at my breasts like that. 'Tis _most disturbing_!"

Ophelia propped on an elbow as her eyes remained on her milky bosom, visualizing, "But they're so bare… So… Exposed. Are you positive you're not asking for it?"

"You are a very _ODD_ woman!" Cut off garments became hastily adjusted after a glare and subtle blush from its wearer.

"They are nice breasts, I will admit," Leliana joked on their leader's other side, laughing. But then an arm was draped around her shoulders, pulling her.

"You think so too, do you?" Ophelia smirked coquettishly as she faced her. Her breath tickled the recipient, whose head was turned by extended slender fingers.

The red head was captivated by the dreamy icicle stare, "Yes–why?"

An inch closer and she was inhaled by a straight nose, "_Mmm_... You're adorable, Leliana." Then she received a peck on the lips; a short but firm peck.

_It had been short, so why could she still feel her dark painted lips on hers?_

She was, again, dumbfounded – this time, with her mouth agape. Ophelia simply observed her with an amused smile while every presence, that witnessed the act, gawked at them, waiting for more.

_What happened?_

_Those beautiful eyes…_

_Did she like her?_

_Those plump lips that daunted, and now heartened…_

_Was it just out of enjoyment?_

_Her perplexingly seducing fragrance that by some means endured the day…_

_Why was she so capricious?_

_Mmmmmm…_

Nearby, Morrigan's eyebrows crumpled deeply as she inspected them, eyes wide. She was bothered. And baffled. Then mad. Then maddeningly baffled. _The woman was unfathomable!_

[-]

_If you want me,  
>Let me know,<br>Where do you wanna go,  
>No need for talking,<br>I already know,  
>If you want me,<br>Why go._

[-]

_SWHOOSH–––!_

"Damn it, Sten!" the scoundrel clad with dark red medium armor dropped low with a single bent knee in an effort to dodge a heavy double-handed sword that sliced horizontally over her. The metallic shine of the blade cast a gleam on her face as her eyes followed its swipe. She succeeded, only by a hair, and she renewed her posture rather deftly, "We agreed I'm a woman! Be gentle!"

In spite of her warning, the stoic continued with his mighty swings. Her quick feet two-stepped each evasion, twisting her body effortlessly as she sped up her pace. She trod backwards as he pressed forwards, offensive. Her gaze was steadfast on the man, regardless of the strength of his brute force attacks that nearly divided her into fractions.

The grass they fought on became messy – mainly thanks to Sten's continuous assaults that failed. His controlled countenance was slowly dissipating, whereas Ophelia's was resilient. Her two prominent tresses hung loose over her sharp visage and swayed attractively with her movements.

"Why do you run?" the larger fighter barked wearily after he discerned he had been missing every strike for a prolonged amount of time.

The rogue _could've _just ran circles around him, had she found it more amusing. "Who's running?" she leaped.

_CRASH!_

A boulder cracked into fragments from an upright diagonal swing, trapping his weapon – which two nimble boots landed and put a burden on.

_Tock–!_

Ophelia flicked a small rock she caught, directly in between his eyes, "Looks like I win."

Sten stumbled back and clutched his forehead momentarily, "But you haven't drawn your weapon."

"Alas, did you prefer I flung my dagger unto your head instead? The difference in execution is minuscule, I promise you," she grinned victoriously as she tried to seize his claymore, struggling at that. "This sword… Must be… Heavier than I am!" she huffed.

_The Grey Warden was fragile. Easily breakable. If he had planted one solid hit on her, she could be dead._

He orbited around and peacefully withdrew his blade from the pile of stones, "This adds to my confusion. You are incredibly weak, yet somehow a formidable opponent." They sternly stared each other down for what felt like a whole minute. Faraway, muted chuckles could be perceived. "I still don't know what to make of you."

[-]

Alistair and Leliana clapped from the sidelines as Ophelia approached them, cool and composed. Nutella woofed and rolled on the ground, inspired.

"What a great fight!" the Templar complimented ecstatically, "I almost peed myself watching you dodge all those incoming blows, one after another!" He sighed with relief, "Glad I didn't, I knew you'd be _oh~kay_."

"Yes, you did wonderful! Oh, but I was so scared for you! Why did you have to let his swings get that close?" the bard probed, her face wrinkled with mild worry.

"Thank you, truly, so much," the blonde head bowed professionally as if the audience was plenty. "And Leliana, you should know that suspense is essential for drama in the art of battle. I wouldn't want to bore everyone."

"But you're absolutely amazing… I don't think that's possible," Leliana simpered, flirtatious.

Alistair looked away, trying not to look depressed from realization of his favorite Warden being completely gay.

Ophelia smiled pleasantly for some seconds to acknowledge her praise, before she glanced for the rest, "Anyway, how are your tents? Need help with anything?"

"Not I," Sten spoke from behind her as he eventually caught up, "Mine is stable. I'll be inside," then he hurriedly disappeared.

"Yea… Not me either," the other Grey Warden went and parted his tent covers, "Welp, it's been a fun evening. I'm going to sleep too, good night," then he climbed in and closed them.

"Mine's okay, I guess. Uhm, so..." Leliana tucked strands of hair under an ear, nervous, "Where will you be setting up your tent?" she swayed a tad with her question.

"I haven't decided, really," Ophelia answered frankly.

_Was she crushing on her, already?_

"I see... I'll see you in the morning then," and the Orlesian faded into her tent, peeping at her sweetly for the last time, "Sweet dreams."

The Mabari crawled to stained boots, sleepy, "Come then, Nutella, I have one last stop before I set up my own tent." The war dog whined. "Or you can stay and sleep here, if you like."

[-]

_I can give it all on the first date,_  
><em>I don't have to exist outside this place,<em>  
><em>And dear know that I can change.<em>

[-]

Morrigan busted out of her tent once she heard what could be a disturbance. Unfortunately, it was far worse than what she imagined.

Ophelia was assembling her tent.

"Did you not develop the impression that I wished to be left alone by constructing my camp remote from you _imbeciles_? For such a cunning woman, you are such an _inexplicable_ _FOOL_!" she growled in an escalating soprano as she confronted her with a malicious mien and intimidating stance.

_There will be a fucking storm tonight, with lightning, thunder, and hail._

Ophelia advanced onto her, as tranquil as a Tranquil, "With that type of animosity, Morrigan, you'll invite the darkspawn sooner than later." She shifted her weight on her rearmost leg and raised a hand above a hip, nonchalant.

"Ah!" the witch giggled sardonically, "So you plan to become my neighbor to protect me – is that your intent?" She didn't provide a chance for a response, "Well, _you_ – whore of a Warden – have miscalculated. I am perfectly capable of defending myself," and she thrust a pointing finger at her shoulder. "_Move_ your tent, unless you desire a demonstration."

The Warden didn't budge but snickered, "Actually, Morrigan, it's rather the contrary. I want _you_ to protect _me_, because I trust that you are, indeed, the only one sagacious enough to do so." As instant as she played it happily, her face transformed into significance, "Morrigan, I am genuinely concerned for you. You have singled yourself out by isolating your camp. Anything or anyone can easily abduct you short of our notice. Skill or no skill––Precaution. Is. Best."

They shared a focused rivet as Morrigan breathed gradually to a calm. Golden globes held a dimming fire while full moons glimmered with ensnaring sanctuary. When Ophelia established her point to be taken, she blinked and swerved back to her work without a word.

The dark haired contemplated the diplomat's compelling words, and suddenly felt that she had been the immature one. Life out of the Korcari Wilds was utterly new to her, and she mistook their leader's aims as a simple way to aggravate her. She was too used to solitude and overlooked her own safety for selfish reasons. She had never slept alone in the Wilds. At least, if she did, Flemeth had the eyes of an unearthly being. And now that she journeyed with people who have bounty on their heads, she would be safer accompanied.

Unable to be stubborn any longer, she progressed to her neighbor's tent and exhaled for recognition upon arrival, "You are, indefinitely, an enigma. 'Tis difficult to explain, but I am disgusted by you just as much as I am fascinated by you."

Ophelia finished up with her architecture and watched her, engaging and inquiring. She stood but remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"I know about the deal you composed with the obnoxious Chantry woman. Did you honestly consider that I would not see past your ignorant playacting?" Morrigan stated, softer and not offensively, then concealed a gulp, "But what you displayed there was clever and resourceful. People are willing to be influenced by you and follow you, an obvious cause for how several more we are, currently. And, not to mention, that fine performance this evening."

"Hmm… I dare say that this is a side I never expected from you, not one bit," the rogue modeled a faint smile, "Thanks."

"Nevertheless, you are still sickening – kissing a bard you barely even met. How crude. And also, gaze at my breasts, no more," the mage rebuked, easily nullifying her former commendations.

Ophelia snorted gracefully, "Okay." _Not in a brazen manner, anyway._ "Henceforth, you'll let me stay without dispute?"

"So long as you do not snore like a drunken glutton, I suppose I can tolerate your contiguous company," the dark head showed lenience with a once-over.

"Good to hear. I couldn't snore if I tried," Ophelia twinkled with delight, "You know… If you were formerly opposed to me building my tent next to yours – we could share yours, if you'd like."

"Not in this lifetime, philanderer."

[-]

_But if stars, shouldn't shine,  
>By the very first time,<br>Then dear it's fine, so fine by me,  
>'Cause we can give it time,<br>So much time,  
>With me.<em>

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><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Stars" by The XX (Recommended: LAZRtag Remix)

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><p><strong>Feedback for What You Are<strong>

**Arf-Arf-Psycho**: Yes, me too. Since I can see how many hits and visitors it's getting, it's the more shocking... You have to wonder what people are doing with it... In any case, thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you enjoyed. Hope you came back for this one. :)

**AlexisBlade**: Well, here's my stab at "write more." Did you like? Were they just as funny? I know, no Zevran yet. But he'll be joining soon. :D Thank you so much for the review.

Thank you again for the reviews. Even the favorites that didn't review. All of it inspires me to write more.

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><p>AN: Okay... I'm giving this story a shot (if you haven't read What You Are, go read it.) I hope this gets enough love (REVIEWS!) because I do have some good drama (and humor, naturally) stored for it. It follows the Dragon Age: Origins storyline, of course. But it focuses on the Warden and Morrigan's relationship (can you tell?)

I know I did a lot of summarizing for this chapter. I really cut out the bullshet and went straight for the important parts. I might add some more detail to make this longer... The 4k words just isn't good to look at for some reason. LOL. Or should I keep my chapters this way? If you've read my other stories, there's one that's about 10k words long for one chapter. Well... I guess if you're a diehard Bayonetta&Jeanne fan, you wouldn't mind.

Oh, and again, I have art for Ophelia and Morrigan in my dA. Check profile links.

**Review if you liked. Anonymous or not. **Leave a :p if you want. Or a S2.** I even dare you to criticize it!_ Just give me some motherfokin' reviews. _**Thanks.

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	2. Chapter 2 Chances

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_Minor Edit: March 23rd, 2014 (Although, thinking of expanding it a bit more.)  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 2 - <strong>Chances<strong>

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><p>It felt hot. Incredibly hot. In fact, there was steam coming off the gravel. No, it seemed more like fumes; it suffocated. Lungs stiffened and breathing became torturous.<p>

_Where… What was this place?_

Onwards, wary feet marched farther, past heaps and heaps of rocks. They kept moving with no particular destination. Then they climbed, higher and steeper. Hands gripped rough and heated boulders when balance was difficult to achieve. The physical activity grew problematic once the slope became exactly vertical. _But there was no turning back.  
><em>  
>Fingers exerted a reach for the final protruding rock, leading to higher ground. They succeeded, and feet claimed their stand. At a cliff, eyes enlarged upon their discovery. Below, there was darkspawn everywhere, thousands of them, growling and cheering for something overhead.<p>

Faraway, a mighty and loud roar reverberated, beyond the darkspawn, and unto a heart which raced recklessly. Trembling hands desperately clutched at it to help ease the agony. As soon as a pained scream escaped from the mouth, fire breathed out from another. _From the archdemon._ It hit the cliff where the screamer stood and caused her to fall into scorching lava.

"OPHELIA!"

It felt hot. Incredibly hot. In fact, there was a raging wall of fire surrounding her. No, it seemed more like a whole house was on fire and she was trapped inside; it suffocated. Lungs stiffened and coughing became torturous.

_No, please… Not this again… She couldn't have…_

Onwards, her wary feet marched farther, past heaps and heaps of bodies. She kept moving towards the voice who called her. Then she gradually crawled, lower and dying. She pressed firmly on a splintery and bloody wooden floor in an effort to gain back her standing balance. The physical activity grew problematic once the floor shook to, perhaps, collapse. _But she could finally just die..._

Her fingers exerted a reach for something to hold onto if she fell. She failed and sank to the lower level with loud thuds. At the bottom, on top of a lifeless body that broke her fall, her eyes enlarged upon their discovery. Through a door, stood a woman, only the woman, stunned in grave worry as she found her daughter.

Her mother's call reverberated, beyond the fire, and unto her heart which raced recklessly. When she got in arms grasp, trembling hands desperately clutched at her small bloodied head then cradled it to her chest. As soon as a question escaped from her mother's mouth, nothing came out of hers. _Because of guilt._ Her mother repeated concerned words while she froze, looking at nothing. So she strained to remember what transpired, but it was too much, causing her to faint limp in her arms.

"Ophelia…!" "Oh, thank the Maker…" "What happened?" "My child, you must've been terrified…" "You're covered in blood…" "Please, tell me what happened." "But thank the Maker, you're unharmed…"

_"Mother… I'm so… So sorry..."_

[-]

It was following Lothering that they journeyed to Redcliffe in a course of two days. During the interval, Ophelia had a horrible nightmare which she then discussed with Alistair. _The first half, anyway._ He informed her that it was a direct result from becoming a Grey Warden, a way to hear the archdemon talk to the darkspawn. Thus, she mentally prepared herself for more; _but hoped it wouldn't include her past._

Even with the bitter memories of her childhood and the disaster at Highever, Ophelia retained her persistent quirky nonchalance. She was definite on her role, and she focused primarily on accomplishing it. Additionally, she cared for those she traveled with and made an effort to learn about them in order to boost their morale, when the time came that it would prove necessary.

Alistair was born as an illegitimate son to Maric, meaning he was a possible heir to the currently vacant throne. Sten went berserk after losing his sword (something Qunari warriors considered as their soul) and so he killed a family out of panic, but waited on his own accord to be punished. Leliana's mother was Fereldan, but she was born in Orlais. Once her mother died, she was cared for by an Orlesian noble whom her mother served. Ophelia could sense that she refrained from speaking more about topics which could lead to why she left Orlais, and so, she stopped probing to respect her privacy.

Out of all her followers, it was Morrigan that intrigued her the most. True, she obviously thought her attractive, but it was more complicated than that. She loved her sharp wit and humor, regardless if it was meant or not. The sorceress also proved to be a strong woman, able to fend for herself without anyone's aid. Moreover, she had a feeling they had something inconspicuous in common; and she was determined to figure it out.

Morrigan left the wilds, once, as a child. She sneaked and stole a golden mirror she admired, but it was smashed by Flemeth soon afterwards. With that story, Ophelia uncovered a spark of innocence in her bright golden eyes. She analyzed her further as they conversed with personal topics (and she was glad she was indulged.) The slight change of tone, the slight hesitation to continue, the slight deterring gaze... The witch portrayed a tough walled exterior, but the rogue knew better, and she slowly began to chip away at it.

[-]

A small wildflower's fiery white petals swayed subtly with the wind and radiated a lively shine, thanks to the morning sun.

But then an imposing shadow gradually blanketed it with darkness, killing its show. Subsequently, a slimy wet fluid dropped on one of its petals and hung to it like glue. The yellow fangs, that released the saliva, were centimeters from impaling it.

"Nutella, no!" Ophelia pulled the mentioned hound by his collar then scolded him nicely on one knee, "Flowers are only a delicacy for people like me. Okay? Eating this might make you feel sick. And guess who would have to clean up after you? Me."

The Mabari whined sorrowfully and slumped on the ground as his owner tried to soothe him.

"Sorry, boy," she petted his short fur some more before gazing upon the plant. "Plus, this flower looks rare..." then she plucked it by the stem, "And pretty."

Nutella rose up and sniffed at it, tempted.

"Who do you think would appreciate a beautiful thing such as this?" she questioned her dog, and he barked suggestively in response. "Who? Morrigan?" another bark, but with more enthusiasm, "Mehh..." Her blonde head cocked low to a side, in doubt, "I don't think Morrigan likes this type of thing. Furthermore, she's not too keen on my advances."

He dropped and cried again, brown paws over his puppy face.

"Yea, I like her too..."

[-]

_You, you saw right through,  
>That's, that's when I knew,<br>That I, I wanted you,  
>But you, you called it too soon,<br>You, you saw right through,  
>You, you saw right through.<em>

[-]

"Flowers, for me? Oh, they're beautiful!" Leliana grabbed the flowers handed to her and admired it with a finger. Her eyes sparkled with gratitude as she smiled.

"You recognize them? Andraste's Grace, correct?"

"Yes. These were my mother's favorite. I haven't seen these in such a long time. They smell just like she used to," she took a whiff for emphasis, "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," Ophelia said out of plain sincerity; yet the red head remained with her frisky stare.

Nutella woofed excitedly when he saw someone else was approaching their spot in the middle of the congested Chantry. It was Morrigan and, by the looks of her, she was annoyed – _well, she looked that way most of the time._

"Hey Morrigan, bumped into anything useful?" the ponytailed Warden inquired, while Leliana removed her coy demeanor in her turn to face the mage.

"A spineless dwarf, more like," Morrigan gave the bard a quick once-over, then explained to their leader, "Though, with a little intimidation, I forced him to grow one. He should now be well-equipped to assist against the attacks."

Ophelia smirked proudly for her companion, "Great job. I told you, you would be able to find something."

"Hmph…" Morrigan didn't enjoy doing errands, not out of her laziness but because of its pointlessness. An hour ago, Ophelia instructed them to hunt for anything or anyone that could help the village for an upcoming battle. _It was futile. Surely, the responsibility for the night's success hanged completely on their shoulders._

Heavier footsteps drew near their spot at a pace that was unexpectedly familiar; and it was Alistair, with a boy. They watched him as he arrived, eyebrows slanting for an explanation.

"Look who I found?" he presented the boy who stayed quiet.

"A friend who can endure your dumb questions?" The query sounded more like a statement out of Morrigan's lips.

"_Haha~_ I do try to find some, sometimes," he performed a sarcastic chuckle, "But no, this is Bevin. The boy that girl was crying about a while ago. You remember?" His eyes turned to Ophelia's direction.

Ophelia grinned at Morrigan's comment, "Well, at least he has one." She received the usual giggle of agreement from the bard then the usual glare from the witch, but avoided it by answering Alistair, "And yes, Kaitlyn. Let's go see her now."

They retraced their steps to the woman and Bevin ran towards her before they could get to her. The united siblings mumbled their contentment until Ophelia cleared her throat, by which the older sister eventually regarded their presence.

"I didn't think you would actually stay true to your word." Kaitlyn held an earnest gaze for the blonde woman. "I can't possibly repay you."

"That's okay. You can just give Alistair a kiss or something; he was the one who found Bevin, after all." Ophelia gestured for the Templar.

"I… I suppose there's no harm in it," Kaitlyn surmised.

"Uhm, no," he scratched the back of his neck for an excuse, "I'm good. Thanks though." _That woman and her silly ideas…_

Ophelia protracted a sigh then announced simply, "Fine, I'll take the kiss in his place."

"What?" three women vocalized in harmony. The first surprisingly puzzled. The second disappointedly puzzled. The third irritatingly and disappointedly puzzled.

"You heard me. I'm ready," she winked, then tilted her head to accept a kiss – and the kiss was acquired with a noticeable smack of the lips.

Kaitlyn withdrew with a visible blush on her cheeks, "I… Oh my…" _Oh my, indeed._ "Stay… Stay safe tonight. And good luck."

[-]

_I was happy to know you, baby,  
>Now you ask me what you ask me, baby,<br>Who can explain?  
>I was happy to know you, baby,<br>Follow closely, try to find me,  
>Find me, baby.<em>

[-]

Sten, after a long wait, rendezvoused with them the moment he caught sight of some oil barrels that could be used in the fight. Together, they proceeded towards a locked house which Owen, a drunken smith who refused to help them with armor repairs for the Redcliffe militia, lived in. Ophelia had been doing her utmost to negotiate nicely without further distress for the sniveling man – and intended to preserve it that way.

Although, it was tougher than it would seem.

"You are asking a great deal, you wretched little man," Morrigan complained with her trademarked raised corner of her upper lips.

"I want a promise. Promise me that you'll look for her, that you'll bring her back to me if you can," the anguished man pleaded a search for her lost daughter.

"I'll do my best," Ophelia stated fairly.

"Oh, lovely. Shall we next begin rescuing kittens from trees?" the complainer suggested, sarcastically.

"If it's on the way…" Ophelia shrugged, "Why not?"

"Is this a promise we will not keep?" Sten spoke.

Morrigan dreamed with him, "Let's hope not."

"What's this?" Owen interjected.

"I said nothing to you, human," the Qunari contended.

"_Oh~kay!_ We're done here," Ophelia laughed lightly to prevent the impending wrangle or suicide. She had successfully persuaded the man to do repairs with a measly promise and they could have effortlessly made him change his mind. "See you when we see your daughter, then," she shooed her team then herself out of the smith's house hurriedly. Outside, she exhaled loudly, "You guys give me a headache sometimes, seriously," then she advanced ahead of them, without a prompt for their next task. _She was clearly somewhat dissatisfied._

This was the only time their great leader ever showed discernible displeasure, and they were a bit taken aback by it. She always gave the impression that _nothing_ bothered her. Most of them started to wonder if she had been upset before, but just kept to herself. _Then again, this wasn't that big of a deal. Was it? Did she possess an unusual disorder?_

They gawped at each other for some time before they finally trailed where she went – the tavern.

[-]

_I gave you my chances, chances,  
>You gave me your answers, answers,<br>I gave you my chances, chances,  
>You gave me answers, answers,<br>Why?_

[-]

At last, the village was set. Ophelia squeezed every ounce of resource she could gather and boosted the troops' spirits as best she could. She was certain she had all the capable men that could fight at their disposal; she even persuaded a pub owner to join with their defense.

The moon glowed luminously above nervous, frantic knights and militia men at the windmill and Chantry, respectively. They already had their unlimited ale, 'holy' amulets, and the Grey Wardens by their side, yet they sustained their fretful bearings. On the other hand, her group held no fear and was actually rather excited for some action. _They won't fail and tonight will be the end of the attacks._

She took the forefront at the windmills with Sten, Alistair, and Nutella near the lit oil barrels and delegated Morrigan and Leliana to keep their range from behind.

"Shouldn't you be with the other women at the rear?" Sten quizzed, his great sword gripped tightly at an angle.

Alistair added, "Yea… Not to offend, but you're not _exactly_ meat shield material," he raised his shield to a cover and adjusted his clutch on his long sword.

"If you boys keep whining, I'll make you switch places with them," she unsheathed her daggers and twirled them once while taking an aggressive stance, "Trust me, I'll take care of you."

The earth rumbled and clouds of dust began to envelope their vision. She could hear the horde of walking dead corpses trudge closer, and she hushed everyone to be quiet.

"Wait! What are you doing?" Alistair tried to object with a shouted whisper as the other Grey Warden wandered into the fog.

Ophelia shushed him with a finger on her lip then disappeared from view. He shared a startled look with Sten then shook his head. _What in Andraste's name was wrong with her_? Not a minute later, they could hear someone running towards them and they readied their weapons.

"BY MY FATHER'S BALLS!" it was Ophelia, who carried an exaggerated traumatized expression as she sprinted past Alistair. "The ugly sons of bitches are coming!" she lured the undead who chased her in a line.

"Of course they are! Wasn't that clear from the dust and the tremor?" he bellowed: "MORRIGAN WAS RIGHT! YOU ARE A _MADWOMAN_!" while they slashed away at the burning monsters in consecutive strikes.

"_LA~LA~LA~LA~LA~LA~_"

[-]

"I admit, for a while I didn't think either of us would survive. It's good to see you did," Ophelia was greeted by a barmaid by the name of Bella.

"Don't I get a hero's welcome?" she bit her lower lip in a coquettish smugness.

"You? Why I… I've never kissed a girl before," Bella giggled, "Possibly. What kind of tip do I get out of it?"

Ophelia leaned in for a husky murmur to her ear, "I have a sovereign with your name on it."

"Ha! Keep your money," Bella positioned her hands on either side of her face, "I'll make an exception this once," then she shamelessly kissed her quite deeply.

The men neighboring their places at the bar cheered for their show, and some just gawked speechlessly. Morrigan happened to be watching them from her place by the exit door, eyes narrowed. _Her second pursuit of the day, how unappealing…_

She spoke aloud when their joyous spectacle was done, "Kissing serving wenches, now? Perhaps you intend to roll around in the nearest pig pen, as well?"

Ophelia turned and observed Morrigan, "I will…" Then she turned back to Bella, "With Bella. Am I right?"

They laughed noisily and continued to chat, unaffected by the hate they received. Morrigan couldn't stop her eyes from rolling over the maximum opposite degree as they dismissed the topic. Right when she decided to move and leave the tavern, Leliana stepped in.

She chuckled irritably, "Hmm… Funny you weren't here. Your girlfriend over there has been kissing every filthy slattern in Redcliffe while you were away."

"My _girlfriend_?" Leliana crooked a brow. She honestly had no idea what she meant for a second, then she had an epiphany, and her eyes rummaged the crowd for Ophelia.

There she was – shoving her tongue down a servant's throat, practically having her way with her over the counter. The men roared in thunderous praise and applause at the same time Leliana's heartbeat elevated in paramount bewilderment.

[-]

_Changing letters, changing patterns,  
>I can change 'til you don't matter,<br>Changing borders, changing patterns,  
>I can change 'til you don't matter.<em>

[-]

Ophelia was on schedule with her nightly heart-to-heart involving each of her companions. Second to last was Leliana, and the bard anticipated her arrival with a minor grimace.

"You… You kissed that girl at the bar."

"Hmm?" Ophelia subconsciously kicked a harmless pebble before she granted her an appropriate answer, "OH. You mean Bella. She's cute. Don't you think?"

The red head jumped as she kind of snapped in frustration, "No!" then she asserted sheepishly, "I mean… I thought you liked me… Was it just an illusion?"

The Warden's brows lifted, "What…? You seriously thought…" She displayed a bewildered aspect and made gestures as she explained, "Wow. Leliana… I'm so sorry… It was simple peck on the lips. All of its meaningless flattery, you should know by now."

Leliana stifled a scowl from forming, "Yes... Now, I understand," then she stifled her voice from shaking, "And… It's okay, I guess. I just… I must have really looked like a gullible fool." The ends of her lips arched upwards to hide her disappointment.

Ophelia put a hand on her shoulder, as if to ease her mild heartache, "Don't get me wrong... You truly are sweet and adorable." They traded a feeble smile, "I'm not looking for a relationship, though. It's all fun and games… And having a good time…" She kept her eyes on her, to see if she understood, then she implied under her breath, "But if you want to play… I'm game."

"Oh, no thank you. I'm fine," Leliana tittered.

"You'll be okay? No hard feelings?" Ophelia offered an innocent hug.

"Yes. No hard feelings," and Leliana accepted it. What could, hence, be a limited act between them, she stole the opportunity and saturated herself with her mesmerizing aroma, eyes shut securely––––––––––––––––then she sensed a smooth hand squeeze at her butt.

_Lady-killer…_

[-]

_I was happy to know you, baby,  
>Now you ask me what you ask me,<br>Who can explain?  
>I was happy to know you, baby,<br>Follow closely, try to find me,  
>Find me, baby.<em>

[-]

On her way to Morrigan's tent, Ophelia realized there was no tent or Morrigan to be found. She scanned the zone surrounding her to check if she relocated her tent farther. But there was no immediate sign of the witch anywhere. Thus, she reverted back to where they last conversed together as a group near the bonfire and investigated there.

She called Nutella over and asked him to find Morrigan's scent on the grass. The dog happily assisted her as she kneeled on her knees and crawled on all fours to look for her weightless footprints. They found what she was sure were Morrigan's and followed it, until they reached the beginning of a forest and the woman's tracks could no longer be distinguished. She bent over and examined what might've happened, then remembered her shape shifting abilities and eventually discovered a wolf's paw prints. _She was seriously being discreet._ Where stealth was essential, she sent her Mabari back to the campsite and told him to howl if Morrigan were to return by herself.

Inside the thickening jungle, she moseyed slowly and avoided any step that crunched. It was eminently dark, but with any amount of light from the astral ceiling, her eyes adapted well enough to suit her need. _What could she conceivably be up to?_ She continued onwards, past thick, thin, short, and tall trees. Sometimes, her boots skipped over puddles, her gloved hands propped on trees' trunks for support, and her hawk eyes double-checked where she derived from. Her heartbeat sped up as her mind brainstormed. _Was she hiding something? Was she plotting against her? Was she going to betray her? Was she leaving her?_ But she reserved a peaceful mien, because she knew she would find her and find answers.

Then, the woods gained some outside illumination. Then substantial illumination. Then profuse illumination. Then a final end to the woods. With it, she located where Morrigan was. The dark haired woman stood about the edge of a cliff, basking under the moon's glow, rendering her in plain sight; whereas Ophelia was hidden from inside the forest.

The mage's bare back was to her, and she noted how modestly toned they were. And for a flutter in her stomach, her hands twitched to feel its softness... And for a sharp intake of breath, her nose itched to be buried amidst her ear and generous neck... And for a skipped heartbeat, her lips quivered to be pressed upon her pulse.

The fair-skinned woman seemed to revel at the landscape presented for her. The millions of stars, the moon in its whole, the sleeping saved village, the quiet castle, and the expanding lake that glittered with sparkles. The spot she settled on could've once been occupied by an artist who painted the scene. It was beautiful. _Like her._

For a while, Ophelia hesitated to approach her. She could stay there, forever ogling her in the shadows. But the logical part of her brain refused, and she claimed a step forwards.

"You should have shifted to a bird. They're more challenging to follow. Wolves are pretty easy to track."

Morrigan closed her eyes momentarily upon hearing her voice – _impressive, as always_ – and her lips twisted slightly in humor, "Not that being followed by you was a concern in the first place," and she faced her, "but why have you tracked me?"

"I was checking to make sure you weren't leaving..." Ophelia progressed to her, boots clicking faintly on dirt ground.

"Believe me, 'tis been thought about. Recently, in fact. 'Twas my former plan for coming here in solitude," Morrigan sighed in tribute to her frustration then declared, "The band of fools you're conducting sure is worthy enough reason to. And you–" she was interrupted.

"I apologize if you feel outnumbered sometimes. Though, you do open yourself up for it," the taller woman claimed sincerely as she halted in front of her, "However, you should know, what I said earlier was a mere joke. I can be a friend of yours, if you'd allow it."

The witch chuckled, "'Tis not simply apropos your words."

"Yes, yes. My goals and yours don't always coincide. That's why..." Ophelia retrieved a golden rope necklace from a hidden pocket, "Here... To reward you for putting up with me," then she retrieved Morrigan's hand and forcibly placed it on her palm.

"A necklace? Resorting to bribery now, are you?" Morrigan's hand was released and she scrutinized the piece of jewelry with her touch. Her fingers roamed over its delicate gold strands, twisted together in a thick rope. _It wasn't cheap, rest assured._ Her eyes lit with adoration, "Well... 'Tis certainly beautiful."

"I like you, Morrigan. And I don't want you to leave," Ophelia confessed in a lower tone, "I believe we have much to learn from each other. Plus, I do enjoy your company..." She straightened her posture and made sure she got the desired attention. "But, in any case, how I run things won't change. As much as it aggravates you, I can only promise that I can make it worth your while," she firmly uttered her compensation.

"I..." Morrigan's eyes stared at the necklace fleetingly, as if to find a correct answer, "Alright..." She brought her golden globes back up then prolonged her pronunciation in lenient irritation, "…_I will stay_…"

"Thank you."

"Although, what I meant to say preceding your proposal was..." she frolicked with the item while she beheld her, "I sensed your disapproval of my actions as well. You and I are mutually annoyed of one another. And our journey had only begun... Presently, you condone my impetuous criticisms. But I predict that the future will provide for some heated arguments, pertaining me specifically. I thought it best that I just leave to save us both the trouble."

Ophelia was silent for a moment and took a seat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling loosely as she reclined with both arms. She admired the full moon's brilliance before she finally replied, "Morrigan... You should relax and let me handle everything. Whether you agree or not, I guarantee that someday – you will realize that the world isn't so black and white."

"Oh?" Morrigan remained behind her, pondering for a split second. Unable to counter properly, she asked, "So you've made it your ambition to change my beliefs, by continuing to drag me with this little group of yours?"

"Not necessarily," Ophelia's gaze fell on the village's weak candle lights, "Nonetheless... Let's be honest, you haven't seen life out of the Korcari Wilds and your tight upbringing leaves you with little imagination, Morrigan. Give me a chance."

_She had some nerve challenging her intellect. But damn it, the babbling jester was kind of correct_. The sorceress ambled to her side, still standing, "Fair enough. But from what I've noticed, you are not a beacon of all-knowing light, either. And my mother's teachings are not to be nullified swimmingly; she is the Flemeth, after all. Unfortunately, you will find that my beliefs will be hard to sway."

Ophelia snickered submittingly, "Yea, I know. Though, your consideration for my only attempting is a definite good start, agreed?" She gazed from below her, asking for clarification.

"'Tis not a thing to brag about. I am merely being 'friendly,' as you say."

"So we _are_ friends?" her white teeth beamed brightly as she teased, "I presume that sharing a bedroll with you won't be too far from now."

Morrigan scoffed, arms crossed, "Not going to happen. Especially since you have probably slept with half the women you've met and have a contagious disease lurking around your genitals."

"_Ouch~!"_ Ophelia's mouth fell open, thunderstruck, "That stings… Despite the fact that that's hardly achieved through lesbian sex…" she snickered with a tongue out, mockingly, "And we shall see. I don't give up that easily…" then she playfully licked her lips – more sloppy stupid playful than seductive playful, but it was intentional. "Anyway, you do consider me as a friend now… Right?"

Morrigan couldn't help but throw a smile back at her banter._ Such a charming woman. If she had been a he…_ Then she sat down adjacent to her, their positions almost identical except she was upright, "Being friendly and being a friend have two different meanings."

Their eyes constricted together in an amiable vice, "So… You're thinking about being my friend, is that what?"

"Close."

"Err… Can I know why? To boost my ego and such…"

"_Haha_~ Cute. As I've mentioned before, I am fascinated by you. I am not afraid to admit that you are intelligent. More intelligent than any woman I have yet seen. But you use it for the wrong purposes," she waved her head a little in emphasis for the last phrase, "'Tis annoying, but I cannot despise you, fully."

"Good to know. That's all the prerequisite I need to coax you into my bedroll," Ophelia laughed, "By the way, did you know, your eyes wander to my lips when you lie?" then she swayed her feet around delightfully.

Morrigan didn't stop the urge to push her off the cliff––––and the Casanova did almost fall with a shriek––––but the culprit snatched her hand in the nick of time.

Yellow cat eyes widened tremendously, "I did _not_ push you that hard!"

Ophelia was hauled up quickly and she eyed the bottom where she could've dropped and died, then she pivoted her head to gaze at her with a Cheshire's leer, "So… How scared were you?"

Morrigan's face contorted with so much scorn, it must've sucked all the rage from rage demons and abominations alike, "Your perception was _extremely_ accurate! I DID LIE! I HATE YOU _SOOO_ MUCH!" and the witch undeniably shoved her for the second time.

[-]

_I gave you my chances, chances,  
>You gave me your answers, answers,<br>I gave you my chances, chances,  
>You gave me your answers, answers,<br>Why?_

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Paganini Rocks" by Robortom featuring Au Revoir Simone (Recommended: Extended Club Version)

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for Stars<strong>

**vileniaveladorn**: Thank you for the compliment and review! Yes, she's a real flirt. I believe that if you have a straight woman like Morrigan and you want to convert her, you need to be the one making all the advances or she could just disregard you as a friend. I don't really like Morrigan directly being a lesbian. It's more of a challenge to write about how she might be converted or make an exception.

**ScOut4It**: I'm about done with writing things from the game's excerpts. Maybe a little bit more for the next chapter, but I'm not sure about the chapters after that. If it's in the game, it will most likely be summarized. The merchant's prices can be lowered for the poor folk (but not for you) if you have enough coercion and cunning, I think. I pumped up my rogue's dexterity and cunning only and put my points on coercion first, so I always had the dialogue where you can persuade him. And I'm aware of that fact, I'm not looking for a dozen reviews per chapter. Five is enough for me. As for your review on What You Are... Thank you for the new vocab words (dubcon and otp.) xD Yes, I thought the dubcon might make for a good hook so I made it start my story. If you noticed, I put all the details only in the parts where it matters. Sometimes when I read other people's stories I get incredibly bored if it's incredibly detailed in parts where I don't really care. So I minimize that with my stories. Also, I only played ME2 (few months ago, just 1 play) and liked it so-so. Love Morrigan way more than Miranda. Thank you so much for reviewing on both and all the praise!

**Arf-Arf-Psycho**: Thanks for the review and for coming back! Keep sticking around (did I say reviewing too?) it will get better. ;)

**mylovelyminion**: The chapters will get longer once they become a solid couple. That's where all the original writing comes in. And thanks for reviewing! :)

Thank you for the alerts and favorites. I would appreciate it if you reviewed also. Just because... You know when you see a story with a lot of reviews and you check it out? Lol.

* * *

><p>AN: I know this story seems really lighthearted for now. But once they become a couple, that's when shet gets real and drama sets in. There will be plenty of humor until then. After that, there won't be as much. ; 3;

The chapters will get longer as the story progresses and contain original writing mostly. Summaries of how Ophelia finished quests will be minimal. The ones in here and the last chapter were just to show how she dealt with certain problems and what her character's made of.

The next chapter will finally include Zevran and Wynne. The way I wrote this story isn't even necessarily how I played it. xD I always took Wynne first so I had four sexy women in my party (I need to draw all four of them sometime.) My rogue was the tank, as you've read from this story. LOL. SILLY ALISTAIR.

Oh, and I'm surprised no one mentioned how I named Ophelia's dog Nutella, a chocolate hazelnut spread. It's so good, it's orgasmic. Almost as orgasmic as Ferrero Rocher.

By the way, does anyone check out the songs I post? It sort of makes sense with my stories, right? XD

Check my dA. I have a new stylish piece for Ophelia.

archristol . deviantart . com

**AGAIN! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. LIKE? LOVE? HATE? Anonymous or not._ Just give me some motherfokin' reviews. PLEASE? _**Thanks.

\


	3. Chapter 3 Change

\

_Minor Edit: March 24th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 3 - <strong>Change<strong>

* * *

><p><em>What I'm searching for,<br>To tell it straight, I'm trying to build a wall,  
>Walking by myself,<br>Down avenues that reek of time to kill._

[-]

Soft ebony tresses dangled lightly from an imaginary air that carried an eerie mist. It was foreboding, but the dark head's flat boots wandered uninterrupted on uneven mud terrain. They were familiar with these parts, even with its continuously changing levels, and they knew well where they were.

Morrigan was alone again; alone in the Fade. For some odd reason, her fondness for the feeling of solitude was not as strong as it used to be and a small part of her craved for immediate company. True, she disliked being there for what felt like an eternity and wished for a way out as soon as possible, but she also genuinely found a worry for her leader - for Ophelia. The woman had cared for her, despite their differences and her constant immoral judgment. Come hell or high water, Ophelia sincerely fought hard each day to protect everyone in her team, especially her. The rogue's alacrity to look after her bugged Morrigan to no end. Despite her harsh words to dismiss her, the help and protection was insisted. What could she have done to deserve everything she had offered? She was selfish, inconsiderate, and impolite. Not to mention, she was dispensable. _She couldn't be worth the trouble..._ Yet Ophelia was the one that sought for her to stay. Was she generally that kind to the whole world? She would never understand that woman.

The sorceress ventured farther into nothingness, hoping to get any clue for leaving the Fade. But then she sensed herself being teleported. _Blasted damnation…_

A brief hypnotizing flash and she warped into another space in the ethereal maze at a matter of seconds. She checked her body for a moment as if to make sure it was intact, and then heard a child laughing close by. Relieved that she would at least discover something new, she went onwards in search for the noisy child.

She extended a leg to skip over a large log, ducked under a protruding leafless tree branch, and parted thick, tall grass before she uncovered a hooded child in the distance – who was accompanied by another individual who unusually reminded her of a teenage version of herself. They resembled each other, in a way. She had dark hair, fair-skin, of average tallness, slender body, and... Poise.

"Okay, I'll do it right this time. Promise," the child swore, reaching for an object her older friend held away from her.

"You won't 'mistakenly' aim higher, to obviously scare an animal that caught your attention, and get one of my precious daggers stuck, thus forcing me to strenuously climb the tree and retrieve it because you're a little brat and suddenly painfully take a full day to climb that stupid thing?" the adolescent's brows crunched irritably, hand jutted angrily towards an imposing tree. Her jet black hair was ponytailed, reminiscent of Ophelia's.

"Yes! I WON'T! Now give me one, or I'm telling mom you brought me to a whorehouse!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"You know I would!" the younger girl challenged, on her tiptoes for full effect.

The older girl sneered, "Fine! Do not make me regret this decision," then she handed one dagger, its blade clenched by her fingers, handle up.

"Thank you," the kid casually grabbed it with a small head bow then turned in the direction of an 'x' marked tree. She inhaled sharply while she raised it in an angle to be flung, her complete focus pinned on the target. She exhaled then the dagger flew.

...It literally flew... ...Over the forest... ...Amongst the flock of frenzied birds... ...Into the sun's blinding glare... ...Faraway from sight...

A volcano erupted simultaneously, "WHY YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE–!"

The mischief whined incoherent noises as she was pinched by an ear and dragged shortly to be forcibly seated on a boulder.

A hand gripped at her shoulder, almost clawing, "Why do you keep doing this, Ophelia? What's gotten into you?"

"After this, you'll go back to your ugly boyfriend, won't you?" the young Ophelia accused then added a dismaying scowl. She sunk on her seat, beaten.

The gripping hand relaxed from confounded worry, "What? Are you... Jealous?"

"Ever since he came around, you've been spending less time with me," she quivered slightly, head drooping lower and lower as her eyes burnt holes through her feet.

The older girl slowly bent on one knee to meet heights then pulled the child's black hood down, exposing the innocent face of the short haired blonde girl.

The unnamed teenager cupped her tiny head and forcibly beheld her gaze. Her bronze irises softened, glazed with unconditional love for her troublesome friend. But then as soon as Ophelia's irises moved to meet her, she hesitated and shut them tightly. Her forehead wrinkled in desperate effort then the other girl gradually disintegrated, fading until she vanished.

Morrigan's lips parted in substantial surprise. _She distinguished it was a dream?_ A few seconds later, she advanced unto her spot, carefully stepping on the grass to not disturb her meditative state. In front of the frozen child, she stopped and examined Ophelia's younger form, pondering if it was truly her.

She flinched inwardly as Ophelia's purer blue eyes unsealed in an instant, "Did you have a nightmare too?" Her youthful voice asked.

Morrigan reeled a step back. "Nightmare? For you, that was a nightmare?" she quizzed, skeptical.

"Yes," Ophelia got on her feet, her height at Morrigan's shoulder, "What happened was the beginning of the nightmare."

The mage placed an index on her puckered lips, tapping it while she contemplated, "Let me guess... Did she go back to her boyfriend, leaving you heartbroken?"

Ophelia remained indifferent. "No," she began to proclaim, then her body glowed white and transformed greatly to her current age, rendering her conclusive words with mature significance, "she stayed." Her eye lids fluttered for a second to suppress a tear that threatened to flow.

"Oh," Morrigan's expression lowered for unknown sympathy. _She must've regretted making her stay for a reason._ "Then I am sorry for... Whatever is causing you grief."

Ophelia's chin rose as she forced a smile, "Don't apologize. I'm glad you're here. To watch me cry or otherwise..."

_Her perseverance was commendable, making her worthy of her title and rank as a leader._

Morrigan didn't hesitate to join her quick recovery, "'Tis definitely unheard of. 'Twill make a great tale, I am sure."

"Amongst all the other tales - in which I am the star - that you keep a record of, you mean," the tanner woman teased, head tilted haughtily.

"Ah, yes... That vast collection, which is so incredibly vast, that it must be as vast as the void and I cannot seem to find it... Tsk. Tragic."

"Oh, darn. Couldn't you try looking past your hollow heart? Certainly, you could find something then."

If another speaking being orated those very same words or implied the very same idea, Morrigan wouldn't have second guessed throwing them into another dimension. Fortunately, it was Ophelia. And Ophelia had proven herself deserving of her forbearance.

"Haha! Witty. Pity me, you rarely ever yield," Morrigan jested sarcastically and they switched humored stares. She cringed internally as the looming gentleness in her core terrified her and hastily introduced a new topic, "Anyhow, we have much more important things to find than what's clearly inexistent nonsense. What do you suggest we do?"

Ophelia chuckled, "Inexistent nonsense…" then she sighed, "Yes. We should reunite with Wynne and Zevran, somehow. They're close, I can…" Her svelte form became hazy, "What the ~ is happening~"

As Ophelia's voice started to ripple, the witch balled her fists, "No! Not this again! I refuse!" And they were teleported once more.

[-]

_If you see me keep going,  
>Be a pass-by-waver,<br>Build me up, bring me down,  
>Just leave me out you name dropper,<br>Stop trying to catch my eye,  
>I see you good you forced faker,<br>Just make it easy,  
>You're my enemy you fast talker.<em>

[-]

Soothing warm rays of sunlight stretched low, ready to welcome the upcoming nightfall, and calm clouds leisurely cleared the sky to make room for its glamorous stars. In unison, trees bristled softly with the harmless cool wind, offering shelter to the animals who seek it. These were nature's customary preparation for a wonderful evening.

Lake Calenhand's quiet water wasn't too far from an almost completed camp, occupied by chattering men and women. They scrambled around unhurriedly, busy yet at ease.

After a long day of saving what was left of the Circle of Magi, Ophelia blessed her gang a premature rest and delegated each member meticulous tasks for a grand group supper. Her friends didn't contend while she merely lounged on a wooden stool, dictating. She had earned that right for tonight, and many other nights, if demanded.

Her eyes veered for their latest recruit when she heard light footsteps and a soft-spoken voice, "Since you are clearly our leader, do you mind if I ask you something I find... Worrying?"

She stood to give her whole attention, "No, not at all. What is it, Wynne? Was it my clumsy performance against Uldred?" Her hands descended to fix her skewed belt, "That's not how I always fight, it's hard to read and chant outlandish cantos while fighting, you know."

"No. That's not quite it. You did magnificent work, saving everyone possible. Clumsy or not, I cannot thank you enough," the senior enchanter glorified with a pleased mien that only lasted for a bit, "In any case, what I am worried about is... Morrigan," she proclaimed warily. Lines of age on her skin uncovered as she explained, "I will not go into depth of how dangerous she might be, for that will take more time. The visible problem that needs to be pointed out is that... She wields a barbed tongue. I have inquired with nearly every person in our party, and most of us agree that Morrigan should watch the words that come out of her mouth, at the very least. It is not healthy for her or us." Wynne was only two and a half days old in their party, but she became an instant motherly figure, looking out for their best interests.

Ophelia recognized her concern and shifted her weight to her rearmost foot, a subtle reminder of her lax authority, "Therefore, you come to me - because you believe it is my responsibility to encourage a healthy relationship between our companions and, thusly, discourage her spiteful habit?"

Wynne nodded once, eyes hopeful, "Yes, that's spot-on. Correct me if I'm wrong, but this topic has never been brought up before, has it?"

"That's a fact," the Warden semi-sighed, "It could be because the rest didn't want to appear weak in front of me..." and she semi-snickered out of absurdity. "But I understand completely, Morrigan can be an unpleasant woman to be around and should be scolded for what she says sometimes. Now, I am not choosing sides," she momentarily rubbed a temple, somewhat hesitant to continue, "however, I have analyzed Morrigan. She's not just a bitch - excuse my language - that everyone perceives her to be."

"You have, indeed, been spending more time with her, I've heard."

"For good reasons, Wynne," she drew out a forearm, palm up next to her chest, and displayed a gesture for emphasis, "Have faith in me, I can change something in her. She's stubborn but I know she listens to me. It won't happen overnight, but I can sway her."

Wynne sympathized, "Your compassion is admirable, that is unquestionable. Although, the effort you must exert in order to mend her versus the outcome… It may not prove rewarding like you imagined. She was brought up to be that way and–"

"Which is the more reason for you to approve that she should get a second chance. Don't you think? She grew up without another's point of view. All she had were hers and her mother's. Maybe some animals, but that's regardless of what we're talking about here," Ophelia insisted, her silver orbs firm on their passionate resolve.

The old woman blinked a few times in reflection then admitted, "Alright, you are undeniably at your craft. You have persuaded me. I will hold it to you for results. Though, I hope no one should get hurt in this challenging process."

"If it comes to our safety, I will take more drastic measures, I assure you."

[-]

_I can say I hope it will be worth what I give up,  
>If I could stand up mean for the things that I believe.<em>

[-]

A woman's pained moan escaped, "No~ Not there! That's-!" Her objection was interrupted by what sounded like wet skin slapping wet skin, and she prolonged a groan from both pain and pleasure.

The man who caused her delicious agony cackled sadistically, "So this is really your first time?" he chortled proudly, "Why I am truly honored! But you can take it, my lovely woman. Your body is so immaculate; it-it must be destined for this! Here comes another!"

The second skin to skin contact echoed with her scream, "HANH! Stop it you butt of an ogre! You will break me!"

"No, no, my dear. We are just getting started! It will get better!"

Third.

"Ngaah!"

Fourth.

"Feels better, yes?"

Fifth.

"Ah little~" sixth, "~hah! Yes!"

Seventh.

"HARDER!"

Eighth, and a loud crunch nearby abruptly paused their guilty festivity.

"My, my… And here I thought that you were being raped by the pintsized newcomer you so immediately trusted," Morrigan declared as she emerged from the shadows, sauntering with a predatory air about her. She halted by planting her boots solidly on the land's rocky separation from the water. She eyed the half-naked couple across the lake, disgusted, "Tsk, tsk... And your standards can still manage to get lower, it seems."

A couple of yards from where she was were the Warden and her new assassin buddy. They were both flustered and angled as if they had performed barbaric mating, heaving rhythmically for air.

Ophelia gradually caught her breath, emerged from her bent position in the serene water, and leaned on some exposed bulky stones in front of her. She held her face up to watch the dark temptress like a child with a crush, "D'aww Morrigan... You came to find me to make sure Zevran didn't finish the job?" she cocked her head to a side adorably, "How sweet."

The mage scorned, arms criss-crossing in time, "You are essential for completing our mission. Without you, our quest would come to naught," and she shook her head for importance: "Do not mistake my concern for anything more."

Zevran couldn't contain his observation and interjected, "There is no doubt, I can see it in your eyes - you are troubled." His slim physique relocated from behind Ophelia and waddled in the water to end up beside her. He smirked optimistically with a proposition, "Perhaps you would care for a massage to ease the tension in your body and mind, wild witch?"

"It's not such a bad idea, Morrigan. I'll admit, it hurt a bit at the start but–"

"But it'll have you wailing like a practiced harlot at her rapture's peak, as you've heard."

Ophelia giggled salaciously and bit her left hand's nails, downright enjoying her fake submissive role.

Morrigan's single brow rose as she retorted, "And be scarred for the remainder of my life, wondering where else those grimy hands might have been?" then it fell, "I would rather stab myself with a knife. Keep your dirty hands to your filthy self, elf."

"Oh, very well. I shall try to control where my hands land from time to time. Unless, of course," he regarded the woman beside him, "if the person is willing to receive a mind-blowing massage, hmm?"

The mischievous duo traded indifferent stares for five full seconds... Then they burst with hysterical laughter.

Yellow eyes narrowed, thin brows furrowed, fair chin wrinkled, and lip corners curved downwards. "Why did I even bother? You are a hopeless blind _fool_!"

As the total package prompted to storm away, Ophelia splashed out of the water and hollered, "Morrigan, wait!" She rushed towards her retreating form, bare feet cleverly maneuvering around pointy rocks and chips of wood.

"What?" Morrigan snapped while she was swerved involuntarily by a hand on her shoulder, her expression spelled buggered in capitals.

Ophelia's unpainted lips articulated firmly, devoid of comedy: "We need to talk."

[-]

_What am I here for,  
>I left my home,<br>To disappear is all,  
>I'm here for myself,<br>Not to know you,  
>I don't need no one else.<em>

[-]

"I am not asking for you to make an apology. I am not asking for you to act like a saint. I am not asking for you to pray to the Maker for forgiveness. I am not even asking for you to sleep with me. All I ask is for you to hold your tongue on certain occasions. Nothing more," Ophelia implored as she donned on loose cream long-sleeves, matching the brown shade of her skinny leather trousers.

Morrigan chuckled mockingly, "Hold my tongue? Yes! What an excellent idea!" Her hands made a loud clap sound as she clasped them together then shook them by her face, dreamingly, "Let me just prance on over to _tongue-leash-land_ and grab a harness for my rabid tongue, because you know what?" She dropped her childish act and projected as sharp as the pointed finger she brandished, "You guessed correctly! That is precisely what 'twould take to 'hold my tongue'!"

Ophelia looked at her sideways and grinned faintly, "There are plenty of other alternatives to restrict your tongue, mind you..." She placed a foot on a tree stump to tie her boot's shoelaces, "Anyway, jokes aside, either ignore everyone and everything that annoys you and speak none of it," she concurrently glanced at Morrigan, "or try to speak without verbally assaulting or humiliating anyone."

"'Tis impossible. I am not a docile introvert, willingly hauled around aimlessly to merely watch and listen as stupidities unfold. Logical and factual thoughts come to mind and they are automatically spewed out. I reserve the right whether if 'tis intended to psychologically wound its recipient or not. These feebleminded weaklings who cannot accept the truth may bitch, moan, and whine beneath me, 'twould concern me not at all. _Hah! _'Twould only make me laugh."

Ophelia finished up with a minor dusting of her polished shoe, "Your merciless and blunt ice-cold demeanor sure is comical..." she realigned her posture and faced Morrigan directly, a solitary hand rested in a rear pocket, "If it wasn't a hundred percent true." _Which it wasn't._ Her twin moons endeavored to see through the impervious witch and steadily probed, "Tell me, Morrigan: if I were to point out your flaws and imperfections in the rudest most heartless manner while in the presence of an audience, how would you feel?"

"Before or after I slowly flay you alive and feed you your own skin?"

She scoffed, "Either."

Morrigan kept her stubborn apathy, "'Twould not bother me much emotionally. Unlike the pathetic crybabies you defend, I can be over it a single unfaltering heartbeat later."

Ophelia scowled inside; outside, she deliberated aloud, "I don't believe you. The same way I don't believe that you can't control your speech. Say what you will, but I believe you are capable of my advice." She shot a lasting penetrating gaze then marched past her.

"Even if I am capable of it, my persistence not to do so overcomes my capability to do so," Morrigan justified as she pivoted around, eyes tracking the blonde who quietly strode beyond. Her defense was heard, but she was ignored. _She couldn't care less if she was disappointed or hurt. Well... Maybe not physically hurt._

Bit by bit, Ophelia inaudibly disappeared into the dark of the woods. Wolves could be discerned howling miles away, tempting the shapeshifter to join them.

Silence stretched unbearably until Zevran, who eavesdropped some trees from them, relinquished the opportunity to mingle with the ignored woman by advancing beside her. He copied her distant observant stance then remarked coolly, "She likes you."

Morrigan's agitated thoughts got disrupted and she glared at him, "And? What of it?"

He tilted his head to bask under her glower and grinned, "She _really really really _likes you."

"Hmph. Jealous much?"

He sniffed, "Yes, I am..." and he faked a tear that was wiped with a thumb, "But I approve of you..." After his overacting, he beamed his set of teeth at her, "My spicy hot woman!" he wailed his head strongly in time with his compliment, absolutely emphasizing his intense and exaggerated approval of the Witch of the Wilds.

"It may be that she desires me. But expect nothing to occur from it," she rolled her eyes then swiftly commenced for a departure without him.

"_Haha!_" he chased the speed-walking sorceress, "Except noisy, tent-shaking, steamy love-making?"

He was now the one being ignored.

"You are speechless! The instance _has_ been considered, has it not?"

"Silence. You do not know what you speak of, foolish gnat. Leave me be."

[-]

_Fit in so good,  
>The hope is that you cannot see me later,<br>You don't know me,  
>I am an introvert, an excavator<br>I'm duckin' out for now,  
>A face in dodgy elevators,<br>Creep up and suddenly,  
>I found myself an innovator.<em>

[-]

An Orlesian beef stew bubbled to a boil, granting neighboring noses a pleasant aroma with red burgundy wine as its prominent scent.

"I think it is ready," Sten observed from a distance, stomach already grumbling.

The stew was the last dish that needed to be served. Every single dish must be on the table before they ate, as Ophelia decreed, and the stew was the only entrée missing. _The stew must be done._

Leliana stopped stirring the steaming pot. "Aww, you must be starving. Hehe," there was no response, "Here, help me with this," she retrieved a large bowl and signaled for him to take it.

"Okay," the big guy progressed to claim the ceramic material with a straight face, as always.

The pair wordlessly transferred the food into the container and promptly left the cooking station to meet up with the bulk of their team at a large dining table that Ophelia borrowed from the Spoiled Princess. Alistair, Wynne, Zevran, and even Nutella sat patiently at their seats while Ophelia paced around with a map, planning.

There were nods of agreement for something Ophelia had said when Leliana gleefully announced: "Here's what everyone has been waiting for," her mitted hands put the hefty serving of beef bourguignon cautiously on the organized table.

"Ah, finally! Dinner is at hand!" Alistair rubbed his hands to show his enthusiasm.

The Qunari pulled out a large chair and situated on it, "Yes. Let us begin," he equipped eating utensils in determination to express his impatient hunger.

"Hold your horses, men. Morrigan's not in her seat yet," Ophelia commanded and there were grunts of disappointment.

"Ah, Morrigan…" the Templar reclined on his chair, hands at the back of his head, "We might as well forget about this whole "happy dinner together" thing we've laboriously arranged," he complained.

"Lighten up. She'll behave," Ophelia supposed simply, motivating Nutella to bark positively.

Leliana comfortably settled in her own seat and added, "You talked to her some more?"

Ophelia couldn't read if she was supportive or resentful, "Possibly... Why?"

"They believe you have favored fiery britches over each one of us, precious leader," Zevran casually acknowledged her question as he rolled a coin across his knuckles, "But I personally do not mind," he snuck a wink in.

She snickered, "Don't misconstrue, I like you all equally and would treat you all equally. However, Morrigan… Let's just say she requires the special attention," then she dropped the map on the table, hands fixed sturdily on its tablecloth, "Nevertheless if I had favorites or not, you will all adhere to my rules and keep your plates clean while I go fetch her, understood?" her bearing was slanted in an indomitable fashion. She seriously meant what she said. _There was no fucking with her._

Halfhearted yes's and nods spread through the table.

"Thank you."

[-]

_I can say I hope it will be worth what I give up,  
>If I could stand up mean for the things that I believe.<em>

[-]

"You will play cards with us. I will teach you how," Ophelia pressed decisively, seductive with her notion as if she had been the enchantress. She was propped on an elbow, poring over the mage sideways with eyes half-lidded. The candle at the center of their table accentuated her captivating gaze with attractive highlights on her cheekbones. One would wonder if the alluring appearance she portrayed worked for both men and women.

Morrigan had a thousand ripostes waiting to be fired against her ensnaring proposal, but the Warden's dazing proximity coupled with her tipsy concentration conveniently dithered her judgment and she allowed herself to be convinced, "_Ugh…_ And after that? What would then follow? An orgy with everyone?"

Noticing her amicableness, Ophelia triumphantly stood with a leer and heaved her by an arm, "No, I would rather keep you for myself. Come."

"'Twill be the end of my geniality. Cherish it while it lasts," the dark head was removed from the dining area and dragged to the center of their campsite at a slackened pace.

The rest of their group sprawled down on the lush grass at a close radius with the appeasing bonfire. They had playing cards tucked in their hands guardedly and betted with symbolic chips. From the looks of it, Sten was merely watching with Nutella, Wynne was the dealer, and Zevran had taken most of the winnings so far.

Ophelia compulsorily sat Morrigan down on a small bench dramatically to seize their attention. When she received it, she broadcasted with fulfillment, "Morrigan will be playing. Let's start over, I'll be her guide. No actual bets, but pretend the chips are worth something. This one will be for fun."

"Wow. Seriously?" Alistair chimed his shock while the others phonated their _ohs_.

"It seems so," Leliana responded blithely at the same time they recovered their chips.

Two players established the starting bets then Wynne agreeably grabbed all the cards, shuffled them, and roved her hands around to lay them for the waiting players. There was a glint in her eyes as she passed cards to Ophelia's direction, an indication of her acquiescence. _She had made decent progress in the course of a night._

Zevran chuckled upon receiving his hand, "This should be quite enjoyable."

Morrigan grumbled in a whisper, "A single game. That'll be it."

"Or two, if we win. 'Kay?" the opportunist reposed by the grumbler and snatched their cards from the coffee table.

"Haha~ Then I shall lose on purpose."

"No, you won't. I won't let you. Plus, I'm a decent guide," she handled the cards to her pupil's view so she could examine them, then explained the potential of their hand and what was to be done in a murmur.

"So 'tis a sufficient hand or not?" Morrigan enunciated her confusion, determined to quit as soon as possible.

"Perhaps we should keep the bets with a currency, hmm?" Ophelia dared the spoilsport.

"No. That is not necessary," Morrigan surrendered, "Just get this over with."

There were light chuckles at their playful banter.

"Shall we?" Wynne waited for their heads to bob then she dealt the flop and the game was on.

Ophelia silently tutored Morrigan along the process of the repeating calls, bets, checks, and raises. She signified that the game was partially about luck, as card games generally were, but if she participated to win, she had to sell some bluffs. Morrigan continued with her obviously revealing questions, but she was artfully answered vaguely and dishonestly to nullify any enemy players' suspicions. She eventually gave up the suicidal ruse and studied the game itself. It was, indeed, mostly based on the individual's gambling capacity and the deliverance of their gamble. She inspected the miniscule hints of nervousness that crept up Alistair's face as the stakes grew higher. Thusly, she aggressively threw a bunch of her chips and he folded. She noticed Leliana's hesitant body language when the bard bluffed. Hence, she dilatorily intimidated her with notes of how shameful but amusing it would be if she was wrong, and she gently folded. Morrigan had nothing to lose, unlike her competitive companions, she was unaffected by the possibility of being called on her bluff and be embarrassed, making her bluffs effortlessly executed. It was not a simple card game, it was a mind game as well.

Unsurprisingly, Zevran was the only opponent left. Morrigan had skillfully learned the game's mechanics and confidently wielded her own cards. It was pointless to win, she knew, but it would be hysterical to see him lose. She brazenly tossed her chips all-in then uttered with boredom, "Alright Zevran, what will it be?"

"Ha! Are you _that_ confident of your hand?" the short tan man sniggered, "Would your confidence be the same should we make the pot real, I marvel?"

Ophelia butted in for a direct reprisal, "Fine, I'm putting the corresponding sovereigns for Morrigan," she satisfyingly advocated for her and drew out a bag of coins.

"My decision remains the same. Shall we have a look?"

He guffawed momentarily, "Not joking then, are we?" His chips rattled as he fiddled with them and eyed the opposing female who fixated an unflinching stare. He scoffed, "I'll give you this one, my spicy hot woman," he forfeited with an exposure of his cards that made a flush in addition to the cards on a low table.

Morrigan conclusively released the small stiff papers and boggled the entire party.

She had a low one pair.

A chair fell. "_BRASKA!_"

Ophelia cracked up in contrary to the speechless gawping folk.

"'Twould be intelligent to contemplate that the money wagered wasn't even mine. I care not if I win or lose this stupid little game."

"Maker's breath… She fooled you," Alistair reminded the Antivan.

Zevran composed himself, since he still retained most of his coinage, then clapped in submission, "I have to hand it to you," and he smirked, "Well-played, my dear."

"'Twas easy," Morrigan got up hastily, "Now, I shall collect my prize and–" There was a tug at her hand.

"Oh no you don't," Ophelia pulled her back to her seat, "I betted for you, remember? The least you can do now is play with your earnings some more, and alone this time. I'll be playing too," she tested.

"I see… You wish to throw more of your money? Fine by me."

Leliana tittered, "_Oooh._ Is Morrigan going to be the new card shark? This is exciting."

The ante was settled once more and they played. They played longer till Alistair and Leliana deserted the contest. It wasn't any less entertaining, as the trio were exhilarating to root for, given their snappy comebacks when they staked. They each folded at least on one occurrence but won on another.

In due time, Morrigan ultimately had the smallest amount of chips left, but she preserved her nonchalance at the last chance for her to bet and pitched all of them, "Let us end this."

Zevran and Ophelia shared a questioning glimpse, then he slid the total of his chips in.

Ophelia giggled, "Well, okay…" she mirrored his action, "Let's make this interesting."

They had every chip to lose. This was the end and it was a showdown.

Wynne announced, amused, "Alright, children, show your cards."

Zevran laid down a full house.

Ophelia cheered, "Good hand!" then she laid down a straight flush, "But I think mine's better," she cackled.

"Damn! You women are killing me tonight!"

"Do not be conceited, you have not won yet," Morrigan crossed her legs then laid down her cards, "Read them and weep." It formed a royal flush. The only possible hand better than a straight flush.

Their jaws immediately dropped, loud and doubtful: _NOOO.._.

There was a roar of thunderous applause from Leliana, Alistair, Wynne, and Sten included. Nutella woofed to conform.

Zevran was bent on his knees, on the ground, gazing up, and repetitively asked the Gods why they had forsaken him.

"Beginner's luck!" Ophelia whined, "One more! Not with coins, we bet to be the winner's bitch for a day if we lose!"

Morrigan smiled as she kicked her off of her feet, "_Hmm…_ Maybe next time."

[-]

_Change, change, change, change,  
>I want to get up out of my skin,<br>Tell you what, if I can shake it,  
>Imma make this something worth dreaming of.<em>

[-]

"Enjoying your victory?" Ophelia approached the lucky lady who counted her coins by stacking them on a crate. She must've won enough to buy a medium box of jewelry and fill it.

"Only because of the money," Morrigan affirmed then departed from her tent to join her under the moonlight. She discerned the rogue's different stance: her hands were behind her back.

"And not for the hilarity that ensued at all," she laughed flippantly, "I love you, Morrigan," then she suddenly monotoned.

"_What?_" Morrigan replied in bewildered surprise, like the time Flemeth sent her off but with more horror.

"You're funny."

_Oh, good. It was just a joke._

The blonde beamed as she exposed her hands, "Well, keep enjoying your night because it's gotten even better," she presented the Black Grimoire, a book Morrigan had requested a search for in the Circle of Magi. "I think you deserve this."

Yellow eyes kindled with delight, "You found Flemeth's grimoire?" She subsequently removed it from the taller woman and roamed her hands over its styled crevices, "When I spoke of it to you, I did not truly hope… Ah! But this is a most fortuitous event!" She looked at the female Warden with gratitude, "You have my thanks. I will begin study of the tome immediately."

Ophelia was silent for a second, then her twinkling silver-light blue eyes twinkled too much for Morrigan's liking. And the next thing she knew, the sly woman had quickly inched in for a kiss.

The delicate onyx lips landed on her rosy ones for a second – then she swerved her head and slapped her heavily out of tremor.

Ophelia caressed her stinging cheek, her eyebrows creased over puppy eyes while she quizzed the gaping witch, "What? Don't I even get a kiss?"

"That is a steep reward to ask for! You are a woman!"

"Doesn't mean you can't kiss one!" The cheery atmosphere plummeted as she immediately twisted to return to her tent.

Morrigan rolled her eyes and sighed tetchily, "Okay!" The hurt puppy turned around sharply and she professed, "On the cheek."

Ophelia grinned and leaned in again, but Morrigan stopped her. The mage initiated the peck this round, but Ophelia took advantage of it and did the same, taking a whiff of her exquisite scent; a scent that almost liquefied her.

Morrigan reverted back five inches from her, "Hah. Always the chancer." Dreamy eyes stuck to her like molasses. "Compensation has been requested and provided. Now quit looking at me like that, and tell no one!"

[-]

_I can say I hope it will be worth what I give up,  
>If I could stand up mean for the things that I believe.<em>

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><p><strong>Song<strong>

"L.E.S. Artistes" by Santigold

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><p><strong>Feedback for Chances<strong>

**ScOut4It**: Thank you so much for reviewing again! I enjoy them because they're long... That's what she said. Lol. Keep reading. When Morrigan and Ophelia fight, it's gonna be really hot... I mean really bad. :)

**Gemini1179**: Yes, I do that on purpose to get the readers to think. You'll find that thoughts never go into first-person. Everything's kept in third-person. I'll give you a hint, though... They're Leliana and Morrigan's thoughts. You distinguish which ones are which. And glad to hear you like my OC. xD In honesty, I strive to be like her. Too bad I can't look as good as her. = 3= Anyways, thanks for all the reviews!

**AlexisBlade**: Haha. I prefer you review for every chapter than altogether, actually. Makes me look cool. XD In any case, there will be a little bit of a love triangle somewhere. Maybe a quadrangle. Haha, who knows? ;D Thanks for the reviews and watching me on dA!

**mylovelyminion**: Thank you for the compliment! I do try! And thanks for coming back. :)

**Rin Ryosuke**: Thanks for reviewing! That's too bad about the other stories. I haven't really read any on Dragon Age. Way too busy to read.

Keep reviewing! Thank you for the all the alerts (wow!) and favorites. I would appreciate it if you reviewed. So I know if you're completely liking it or not.

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><p>AN: Sorry for the wait. I was busy busy busy. The next one should come faster. We're getting closer to "What You Are." Cherish the comedy! It won't be as much later on. That's what would make it sad. :(

Just to inquire... Does anyone like the idea of lemons in here? Or is that too vulgar for a story that has meaning, such as this? I've never written one, but the ones I've read are usually oneshots. I'm thinking of putting one (or two if it's on demand) as a whole chapter somewhere, but I dunno... Maybe post it apart from the story like "What You Are?" I'll make it tasteful. Really been curious to how I'd do with lemons. If it'd be really hot or really disgusting. Probably have to hump a pillow afterwards. HAHA. Jk. Sorry for the bad imagery.

Anyone know where I might've gotten the reference for the poker section? It's in a show... A very funny show, in my opinion. But I haven't been watching it recently...

I hope everyone gets a good Valentine's day! Check my new piece of Morrigan and Ophelia on deviantART. It's very Valentine's day themed and cute. They're modern and stylish. You should like it if you like this story. ;)

archristol . deviantart . com

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	4. Chapter 4 Paradise Circus

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_Minor Edit: March 25th, 2014  
><em>

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><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

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><p>Chapter 4 - <strong>Paradise Circus<strong>

* * *

><p>Heavy wooden double doors swung open, revealing the respected Grey Warden team that was composed of Ophelia, Alistair, Wynne, and Morrigan; all optimistic except for the temptress. They were back inside Redcliffe's castle and marched onwards to find the First Enchanter Irving and his selected mages. The man had agreed to help them in curing Connor from the demon that possessed him, and traveled to Redcliffe before they had to make meticulous measures for the upcoming exorcism's procedure.<p>

"Ah! There you are," Irving greeted when they entered the vestibule, "We have brought lyrium and begun preparations for the ritual. We can start anytime."

"Eager to get to the point, I like that," Ophelia halted with her team then asked while she studied his groundwork, "Do you have any last-minute advice?"

His voice grumbled for a thought, "It truly depends on the manner of demon. It sounds like a spirit of greed and desire, one of the more powerful in the hierarchy. It will likely engage you in dialog and tempt you with an offer. Avoid it. Making deals with demons never turns out well."

She cringed inside from a diminutive pang of something sore in her chest but wobbled it away with a subtle cough and hurried declaration, "Let's do this now."

Alistair whispered his concern, "I'm glad we decided to take this route. This is really the best option." She negligibly nodded at his encouragement.

Irving proceeded forward and spread his arms open with his question, "Very well. Who will go into the Fade?"

Ophelia keenly observed the two mages at her sides, her elbow rested on an arm as she held her chin up to think profoundly. She was instructed prior by Jowan that it had to be a mage to do the deed. _But exactly who would be best for the job? _

She examined Wynne who looked at her with tentative eyes - yet somehow also eager. The old woman would certainly help if called for... However, she was a supportive mage, not an offensive one. She could fight a bit, sure. But only upon dire situations. This run in the Fade would require an aggressive fighter, able to single-handedly be rid of demons. One that had practiced destructive spells. _Which could only mean..._

Her eyes switched to Morrigan's direction. She was a great damage dealer, and even capable of healing. Not to mention, the way she was found by her in the Fade the last time... She was the perfect candidate. Though she was obviously avoiding eye contact and, thusly, being assigned; what with her yellow irises searching for a dirt on the carpet underneath their feet. Oh, but she felt Ophelia's hawk eyes on her and she momentarily took a glimpse back. _She knew that she would get mentioned._

"Morrigan is going."

The witch snapped, "Don't I get a say in this?"

The ice queen had thawed a tad since that week at the Circle of Magi, and behaved well for the most part by rarely speaking. When she spoke, it was mostly for Ophelia and Zevran. They were the two that could withstand her attitude without complaint... And the mutt. The herb-eating machine she had grown quite fond of. But damn that female rogue for successfully persuading her into taking basic spirit healing lessons with Wynne. Well, the new found knowledge was worth it, she admitted. But how long could she remain verbally satisfactory for everyone and enduring of her leader's demands? She was unequivocally unsure.

Ophelia sighed then demonstrated her usual coercion, "You're strong, Morrigan. Strong, perceptive, sagacious... You have the right resources for killing demons. I have a lot of faith that you can accomplish this fast with little to no problem."

Morrigan's upper lip slanted, "You are right in those things, _but I_...!" she tried to ponder anything that she could use as a defense without sounding lazy or stubbornly difficult. Unable to think of any, she deeply exhaled to surrender her slowly building anger, "Fine! But this means you owe me!"

Ophelia gave her a small smile, "Thank you for your cooperation, Morrigan." She gazed back at Irving expectantly.

He noticed that as his cue, "Then let us begin forthwith." He quietly regarded Morrigan to her spot inside the seal on the floor. She petulantly obliged and sauntered to her place.

Irving's group encircled the hexagon on the flooring then, together, chanted and raised their hands, projecting white electricity upward. They formed a hovering ball of energy that illuminated the disarrayed hall brightly, nearly blinding if directly stared at.

Morrigan waited patiently, carelessly oblivious, until a zap of lightning from the ball hit her on the chest. There was an injured gasp then she convulsively trembled, eyes rolling over into white. The rogue speedily anticipated what came next.

Morrigan's eyes gradually shut while she lost control of her body and Ophelia instantly caught her when she fell, hands tenderly grasping the nape of her neck and a hip. Upon the contact, sharp static on her skin threatened her to release, but she forcibly held on to deliver a steady descent. She bent a knee then the jolts dissipated, and she watched her carefully as if dallying for a reaction.

When there was none, she gently laid her down on the ground. Her palms and fingers hesitated to let her go – because for a fleeting moment, she admired her peaceful state and wished she could part strands of black hair blocking her beautiful face and caress a smooth cheek without anyone witnessing.

[-]

_It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm,  
>We can roll ourselves over 'cause we're uncomfortable,<br>Oh well the devil makes us sin,  
>But we like it when we're spinning, in his grin.<em>

[-]

Morrigan was totally fuming; the smoke that evaporated around her could've been hers, had it not been from the imaginary gravel of the Fade.

She entered another portal and cursed to herself. If she encountered any more damnable fake Connors, she would wake up in real life and kill the child with her own hands. And after that, she would also maybe kill the woman that pushed her into this or make her hope she was dead.

Precisely twenty maddened steps later, she found a demon in its true form and approached it irascibly. _Bugger. Finally._

"Very well. No more illusions. Now we meet face-to-face. You see my true form and stand in my domain," the demon welcomed, chest haughtily jutted outwards as if it was challenging Morrigan to a bigger bust battle, "It is here I am most powerful, and yet I have no wish to engage your power. Nor should you be so eager to engage mine. Perhaps we should converse instead?"

The bitch's sultry voice could've deceived a woman like Ophelia, Morrigan mused, but not her. So she sneered, "I will not become an abomination, no matter what you try."

"One soul I already possess, I do not need another. You need not fear me on that account. I wish only to talk."

She showed it tenacity, "Do you take me for a fool? I know better than to bargain with your kind."

The desire demon scowled, "Alas, that is sad. Very well, then. If you wish a battle, you will have it," then it smirked and waved its hands whimsically to prepare for an attack, "Let us see if your power matches your boldness, creature."

It charged at her and her immediate response was to envelop it in frost once it got in her range. She quickly thrust her palms outwards, freezing the fiend solid, then she pulled back, gathered enough will for a second, and thrust her palms out again, projecting a long controllable stream of fire. Just then, it broke from the ice and, with vertical streaks of light, vanished.

Morrigan swayed her head in search of her target, perplexed. Then it appeared; it appeared in four different platforms in the distance. Knowing that it was a trick and only one out of the four was the real deal, she surveyed for any distinguishable difference. She discovered the leftmost gleaming form not to be an illusion but the demon. However, she was a heartbeat too late, and it unleashed an entropic wave upon her.

Brief flashes of morbid images stunned her mind. She gripped her head and clenched her teeth as the memories from her painful past spiraled in her throbbing brain.

_A loud crunch from a fleshy component._

_The darkened shape of a man on a wall as it wailed in agony._

_A prolonged terrifying scream._

_The sliding of a bloodied machete across the floorboards._

_A reverberating cackle of vicious veneration._

_The smell of foul stench wafting from rotting limbs._

The unremitting gruesomeness stopped, then she cried out as thunderous bolts of shock pierced her. Her eyes shot open, and she realized that the demon had trapped her in a lightning storm. She shrieked and shuddered irrepressibly.

_Fuck this shit. How the fuck did she end up in this state of affairs? The boy should just die, along with his stupid idiot mother. Fuck Ophelia for compelling her to do her foolish bidding. She would kill this bitch, then the boy, then Ophelia, when she got free._

Enraged, she wriggled away and, with her will and her fingers extended, continuously sucked all of the remaining life force of the devil, even when it strained to interrupt her casting. The minute she regained all of her physical strength, she hurled her residual mana into a cone of electrifying bolts.

The demon exploded into thousands of precipitating sparkles and her arms dropped to her sides. She panted heavily before she kneeled and rested her head on the ethereal nadir, fists dreadfully balling into it.

[-]

_Love is like a sin my love,  
>For the ones that feels it the most,<br>Look at her with her eyes like a flame,  
>She will love you like a fly will never love you, again.<em>

[-]

Tall trees wavered along with the forest wind. The afternoon sun shone a considerably radiant luster on leaves of plants.

A day and a half had passed. Morrigan stayed utterly silent, even to Ophelia and Zevran. Nobody really bothered her, because she didn't really want to be bothered. They continued with their minor errands around town; minor errands that normally annoyed her. If she was to keep her cool, she needn't communicate with anyone.

To finish the Chanter's Board and Blackstone Irregular's quests faster, they split into two groups. She was with Ophelia, Zevran, and Alistair, completing the harder of the quests.

A broken caravan was deserted in the midsection of the road and the woods, its damaged parts stretched across the meadow. They moved toward the main vehicle and inspected it closely.

Inside, Ophelia exposed a wooden chest. She hove it out, squatted, then rapped her hand on it. _It seemed okay_. Her hands reached for the grooves to open it and figured: "It's locked." She turned to Zevran eagerly, "Do you know how to pick locks?"

He rose a brow, "What? Forgive me, but isn't that your specialty?"

"Yes, it is. But this has a complicated lock and I'm…" she scratched her head for an excuse, "Heh. Well, I'm lazy…"

Alistair interjected, "If you'd like, I can try to pry it open with my sword. Or maybe slash it open… Is that a good idea?"

"_Ha! _Alistair, it's a good thing you're cute," she chuckled and patted his shoulder, "But we want what's inside. You silly little boy, you'll break its contents."

"Okay, fine. Thanks for making me feel useless," he sniffed.

"_Haha~ _Shut up, you're not useless." She glimpsed at the shorter man, eyes narrowed, "Unlike Zevran over here…"

"Hey hey hey! I'm not always useless! You are well-aware of what I can do," he winked.

"_Yeaaa_, you can hump a treasure chest to open. _Mmhmm_," she jested sarcastically then showily flourished some picklocks out of her pockets, "Time for the expert to do everything around here." She leisurely bent over to do her work, metals already clanking.

_Her provocative posture was angled on purpose._ Zevran discerned and whispered, "Tsk, tsk. How long have you been traveling with her, my good man?" The question was aimed at Alistair.

"Err… Pretty much since the beginning of our journey… Why?" the taller man also whispered in reply.

"Does she do this a lot?"

"What? Pick locks?"

"No, no…" An exaggerated exhalation. "You are such a virgin. Nevermind."

"Or maybe I'm just not as perverted as you…"

Morrigan bowled her eyes at their goofy banter. She felt out of place amongst the trio. In fact, she felt out of place amongst everyone. She brooded over her reasons for being there. _She truly belonged in the Korcari Wilds._

The lock clicked as it unlocked. "_Voilà!_ I am so talented…"

"That you are, my dear…"

A monstrous shriek resonated. They simultaneously spun around in unison to find the source.

Ophelia's countenance dropped its playfulness, "Darkspawn," she uttered seriously and took the forefront.

There they were, a number of yards apart from them, taunting for a fight. There must've at least been two dozen of them.

She delegated in a low tone, "Morrigan keep your distance. Alistair take the bulk. Let's kill the emissaries first."

"I get the short one," Zevran declared with a grin.

Ophelia scoffed, unsurprised, then they unsheathed their weapons and advanced onwards.

The team did as Ophelia had told. Alistair ran first with a war cry and lured most of the darkspawn. Zevran went ahead and sprinted for the genlock emissary, stabbing grunts that toddled his way. She dashed for the hurlock emissary but didn't look back because she trusted that Morrigan would be okay.

_Tchiiing––––––_

She easily beheaded a grunt on the side with a horizontal slash using her right-hand dagger.

_Tshuuuck!_

She whirled around expending momentum from her principal strike and pierced another grunt in the neck using her left-hand dagger.

Headlong, her target hurlock chucked rocks in her direction in determination to save itself. She evaded it by ducking and redirecting it somewhere else with appropriate swipes of her blades. Her feet raced faster to prevent it from casting an additional spell, then she sliced the emissary where it stood.

Afterwards, she heard a booming thumping and the earth shook. She rapidly twirled and saw an ogre. An ogre that was on its way to… _What the fuck?_

Alistair was on fire. She was going to warn him to be on guard, but Morrigan had summoned a swirling flame in his radius, engulfing the darkspawn on fire… With him.

"STOP MORRIGAN!" she yelled at her and progressed towards the Templar.

The mage did stop then the ogre came for her. It suddenly tripped with a noisy thud as grease oozed from the soil underneath. A burning grunt dumbly stumbled into the mire and it caught fire. Ugly screeches filled their ears as the darkspawn all burned to their deaths.

Ophelia and Zevran rushed to haul Alistair from the fray and unto safer land. He rolled on the ground as she detached her small cape and smothered the fire on him with it.

When the flames were put out, Ophelia hunkered down for his prone form, "Are you okay, Alistair?" Her platinum eyes beheld his with clear care.

He groaned then breathed out, "Yea... I think so..."

She helped him get to an upright position on the terrain, "Good."

Zevran remarked, "And so my hunch has been proven correct. Fiery britches is truly fiery, let me tell you..."

She shot him a glare, unappreciative of his witticism, "Quiet. Do not discuss about Morrigan and what happened here any further till we get back to camp." He soundlessly gulped and nodded then she returned her concern to Alistair who removed his sweltering armor, "Zevran, grab our bag by the caravan and tend to his wounds. I need to talk to Morrigan." He gave another nod, then she firmly regained her bearing and trudged to Morrigan, footsteps heavy from frustrated disappointment.

The witch had her back to her, viewing the scene she orchestrated out of impulse.

Ophelia didn't bother to christen her name. "What is the problem with you?" she queried with an imposing speech that wasn't a shout, but it had enough disdain to hint that she wasn't pleased.

Morrigan rotated to face her but didn't answer her question, "'Twas a brilliant plan, was it not? All these darkspawn dead and at one fell swoop?"

The Grey Warden winced from the temptation to reprimand her with vociferous bellows, but she suppressed it and objected instead, "No! They could've died either way without the cost of your reckless plan!"

Morrigan stepped forward to greet her eye-to-eye and retorted, "The ogre would've rammed Alistair, had I not ignited the fire. He would've taken a heavier beating had the ogre succeeded! Not to mention, Alistair is a Templar. Like he once boasted, he can handle my magic! Do you not see the logic in what I have accomplished – '_oh' so intelligent leader_?"

"The logic I fail to comprehend is why you had to involve friendly fire into it! We would've rid of them without the need to hurt Alistair!" Ophelia threw her hands skywards, emphasizing the absurdity.

"Why don't you ask him how bad his wounds are? Would you like me to heal him? 'Tis miniscule compared to what could've transpired!"

"We can take those chances! Do not assume we can't! We are far more skilled than that!"

"And save as much time and effort as this had?"

"Enough!" she sneered, "You obviously refuse to see my point. I will have no more excuses. Take your reasons elsewhere. You will meet the consequences later, in camp. For now, say no more," her intense glower deflected hers.

Morrigan's face became plastered with infuriated disbelief, "_Consequences_?"

Ophelia departed bereft of attention for the scowling witch, whose breathing elevated.

_How predictable - she simply abandoned all confrontations she started when it became unbearable for her, like she had already won. She dreamed she would do something more about it, because she was not afraid._

[-]

_It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm,_  
><em>We can roll ourselves over when we're uncomfortable,<em>  
><em>Oh well the devil makes us sin,<em>  
><em>But we like it when we're spinning, in his grin.<em>

[-]

Evening dwindled, they ended their questing spree then retired to their camp. The noiseless night didn't help in soothing the tension between the party and everyone didn't speak unless spoken to by Ophelia.

She entered the crowded enclosed portion of their camp and inquired the old healer, "How is he, Wynne?"

"I still have my voice, you know," Alistair groused, seated on a stool.

She smiled at him, "I see _and_ hear that. I'm glad you do," then referred to the senior again, earnestly, "But it's Wynne I want to hear from specifically… So how is he?"

"His injuries were not bad. He received some minor burns and scrapes, nothing malicious," Wynne reported honestly.

"Alright," Ophelia supposed solely then eyed the other members for a minute.

As soon as her eyes landed on Leliana's, she requested, "Perhaps we can be on _the subject_ now?"

_The subject _was the pressure that burdened the group. No one was to gossip about _the subject_ 'til it was appointed. If they were to babble, it would've caused more needless drama.

Ophelia's head drooped when she sighed, "The time of reckoning_ is_ inevitable..." then she improved her pose and gave a rundown, "To summarize, in our mission, Morrigan utilized a reckless shortcut which involved friendly fire…" She regarded the Templar with a gesture, "Hence, hurting Alistair."

The bard anxiously sat up in her chair, "She hurt Alistair on purpose?"

"I… I'm not sure. An impending ogre was going to ram him – so to discourage the ogre, she set fire to the darkspawn in his circumference. He was at the focal point of it, so burning was inescapable. It was a brash act to eradicate the darkspawn; not necessarily intended for him, I would say."

"But she didn't care about what happened to him?"

"Hmm... No. I suppose not. She didn't display signs of distress for Alistair… She dismissed his wounds as miniscule… Which shouldn't be how a teammate should act."

Wynne added, "Yes. You should enlighten her about that. I have perceived from the very beginning that she isn't precisely fellowship quality."

"She unquestionably isn't," Ophelia looked at Alistair, "How do you feel about Morrigan's deed?"

"Physically? I'm okay. I can fight. Emotionally? I want to get back at her for trying to fry me alive," he itched at his neck, "But… There's time for that."

"Okay... You have my permission; just don't be too evil. Maybe I'll even help," she giggled a bit with Alistair. "Well… Anyway, I take partial fault for not warning her about friendly fire. She has the most expertise at area of effect damage after all."

Leliana disagreed, "But that's common knowledge. No one should try to kill their teammates."

"You forget – this is Morrigan we're discussing." Ophelia adjusted her gloves to detract her sight from them in slight demur, "At any rate, she does deserve punishment… I agree."

Wynne identified her light indisposition and commiserated, "You should make her apologize. If she's remorseful, that is enough. Well… In addition, to whatever you plan with Alistair."

_She became lenient for the witch since her performance at the poker game._

"I've thought of that." Ophelia bobbed her head a little, then smacked her lips from indecision, "But this will be a milestone..."

Alistair sanctioned, "Well, I'm alive. If she really wanted to kill me… I'd be dead. I guess… I guess I can give her that."

Zevran chimed in, "She did manage to obliterate the most of the darkspawn."

Leliana deduced, "As long as she shows some guilt, knowing what she did was wrong, everything should be golden."

Sten remained quiet, indifferent for the drama.

Ophelia shrugged, "'Kay… Let's hope this ends well."

[-]

"Leave me, you stupid drooling hound," Morrigan flapped her hands in shooing motions, lurching backwards to avoid the dog.

Nutella whined and persisted to nudge at her boots.

"What is it that you want? A herb? Have you forgotten? You gluttonous mongrel, you have finished all the elfroots," she was at a standstill when her back touched the trunk of a tree and he licked at her shoe, "_Ugggh_…"

At that point, Ophelia arrived. _Calmer than the last time they conversed._

She whistled a certain way and Nutella barked obediently then scrammed. Her silver eyes settled on golden globes then she articulated resolutely, "We have achieved a verdict… You are to express regret for what you did to Alistair. That is all you must do."

_Express regret? What she did was reasonable, couldn't she accept that? If Alistair was okay, which he was, why couldn't she just leave her alone? Why did she feel the need to focus all her attention on her? Why should she follow everything the woman demanded her to do? She wasn't her simple lackey, who must oblige without protest._

"You passed judgment over what I had done?" Morrigan created a transitory sound of surprise, "Why I've never…" She was speechless for a second then crossed her arms, "I will not ask for forgiveness. No matter how hard you try."

_Damn her and her bolshiness. She was being nice then she lobs it at her face. This didn't have to be difficult._

Exasperated, Ophelia closed their gap, "It wasn't an appeal," her eyes tapered, "It's an order."

Morrigan didn't flinch, "May I _at least _have the answer as to why 'tis an order?"

"I've said it before and, just for you, I will say it again – you committed friendly fire. If it was strategized before we did battle, it would be fine. Alas, you committed it out of a whim. Say that you regret what you've done, and everything will be back to normal," Ophelia implied imperturbably.

"_Hmph._ Fine," Morrigan's eyebrows rose mockingly, "'Tis what you desire? 'Tis what you shall have. Let me apologize to him, _Ophelia_," she stated then walked away.

Ophelia blinked in unexpected awe.

_There was a distinct roll of her tongue upon pronunciation of her name that she didn't like… What was she planning? This couldn't be good…_

She followed the parading dark head to the epicenter of their camp, where everyone had assembled, standing. Once Morrigan was in their circle, they surveyed her semi-cheerful mien.

The enchantress began, "I'm confident you all recognize why I am here…"

Silence and stares.

"Oh, _Alistair?_" she tested, pretending she did not already see him.

"Present!" Alistair separated from the crowd to meet her, "Here I am."

"_Ah_, _swell_~" she batted her eyelashes before she grinned, "I was terrified I hurt you immensely." Her façade transformed into something consoling, "And so I have come to apologize..."

He put some fingers beside an earlobe, ardently prepared, "_Yes…?"_

"I am sorry…" she delayed.

They tried to anticipate what she would say next by glancing at each other for a clue.

"What's that?"

"That you are a foolishly weak Templar and cannot endure my powerful magic!" she abruptly exclaimed, full of scorn.

Their eyes and mouths opened wide, dumbfounded.

Alistair grimaced, "Why you are a complete and utter _bitch_!" he was about to give her a piece of him but Leliana hindered his movement.

"No! Don't stoop down to her level," the red head dejected.

Ophelia grabbed Morrigan by an arm, almost lifting her, "What are you doing? You've just made it worse for yourself! For crying out loud, couldn't you just apologize?"

_She was typically self-destructive, but she believed she had changed, even by a bit._

"Unlike these pitiful weaklings you protect, I can stand up for myself!" Morrigan hissed and strenuously snatched her arm to be released.

She whirled daggers at Wynne, "You – old woman! You have barely joined our group, you are not at liberty to preach!"

"_Morrigan–!"_

She breathed fire at Leliana, "You – sanctimonious bigot! Choke on the self-righteous manure that retch out of your mouth, for that is what 'tis worth to me!"

"_MORRIGAN!" _Ophelia forcefully veered her around.

"_AND YOU––!"_ Morrigan's glower couldn't be outmatched this time. She totally detonated, "You dirty harlot! I was mistaken! YOU ARE AS IMBECILIC AS THESE WRETCHED FOOLS YOU'VE CHOSEN TO TRAVEL WITH!"

Ophelia staggered back, flabbergasted. Her mouth fell ajar and her eyes flickered while they traced a large trapezoid in the starry sky.

_After everything she had given and done for her…_

She finished daydreaming of stars and smirked at her finding, "Well, you know what Morrigan?" Her head tilted forward, "It all sounds like a personal problem to me."

A scoff. "A_ personal problem_?"

"Yes. You despise our company and prefer loneliness?" she flung an index finger in the smaller camp's direction and gazed at her with vicious pertinaciousness, "Fine, chatter with the trees you adore. We don't require your apology, anymore."

Morrigan's lips parted. She concealed the massive twinge that stabbed her at heart by saying nothing. _How dare she…_

"_If I wished companionship, I ran with the wolves and flew with the birds. If I spoke, 'twas to the trees."_

Powerless to withstand the torment any further, she slapped her. Ruthless and unforgiving.

Ophelia recoiled from her vigorous slap… _Fucking bitch…  
><em>  
>Then she smacked the witch too. Twice.<p>

First with the palm.

Second with the back of her hand.

Morrigan gasped, shaken up by the merciless strikes the rogue had delivered. Absolutely offended and furious, she raised a hand to hit her again.

Midway into smacking the subtly tanned face, Ophelia seized the instigating hand, "QUIT IT!"

Morrigan didn't quit. Instead, she relinquished a sphere of lightning with her moveable hand and punched Ophelia square on the gut with it.

_"OOF!"_

It exploded then Ophelia's boots raked into the ground and created two muddled lines, ten feet in length from their original location. Kneeling down, she clutched her aching abdomen and coughed. Her eyes twitched as sparks of static pinched at her whole body.

While Leliana hurriedly ran to tend Ophelia, Morrigan spat, yellow eyes appearing more wounded than the stirring stomach which took the blow she inflicted, "I'm leaving," then she stormed to her tent.

_How dare she… How could she use what she vulnerably shared only with her deliberately against her?_

Ophelia bit her lower lip and wobbled her head, eyes sealed. _She fucked up._

_It wasn't her fault. She was intelligent and independent; but in the end, when it all boiled down to it, she was confused and lost in this world. No. She couldn't let her go..._

Despite the pain that lingered, Ophelia willed herself to stand promptly. Leliana complained she shouldn't but she did. Her feet jogged in haste, trailing Morrigan to her tent.

[-]

"Morrigan..." Ophelia murmured by the tent's covers, her expression as soft as her tone.

Morrigan instantly dropped the items she was packing and readied to cast a spell.

Ophelia rushed and grappled her wrists before she could shoot her, "PLEASE! I can help you!"

The shards of ice perforated holes in the tent's ceiling.

"NO! I do not need any help! Let go of me!" Morrigan struggled in front of her, arms waving in rampant motions. She strained to bash her way loose, but her grip just tightened.

Then the Warden trapped her hands on a tabletop. _Fuck, she wasn't as feeble as she appeared. Kicking would be ridiculous.  
><em>  
>"I didn't mean to..." Ophelia's voice quivered. Then she begged desperately, "I'm sorry! Please! You're my friend!"<p>

"Leave me be! I never had a friend! I was never capable of making one!" Morrigan rejected then hefted her hands, along with Ophelia's, off the table. _But it was true. She was the closest thing to a friend that she ever had._

Ophelia twisted their arms so she was practically hugging her, then whispered, "Morrigan... It's okay... Vent your frustration on me. I know it's me you're livid about."

"You are a hopeless blind fool! Release me!" Morrigan pushed her forte and got what she desired – but it was short-lived – she yelped as Ophelia tackled her afterwards.

The taller woman toppled over her on the floor then pinned her arms above her head, helpless to avoid her gaze.

Twin moons were glossed with compassion and... Something else the dark head couldn't label.

"Get off!" Morrigan nearly whimpered.

"You're frightened! I know! And you know that I know you better than anyone!"

"GET OFF!"

"Forgive me... But... I can't just let you leave..."

She only had time for a sharp intake of breath when the obsidian lips descended on hers. Her mouth was agape and Ophelia abused the opportunity, sticking her slick tongue in and she wheezed in dispute.

_She didn't want this..._

Morrigan pivoted her head at every angle, frantic to be freed.

_Why did she carelessly allow herself to become so exposed to her?_

But the blonde's head was deeply pressed into hers, restricting her frenzy.

_Why did it hurt so much when she said those words?_

And the tongue that sweetened by every pulsating heartbeat pursued hers indefinitely.

_...Did she?_

[-]

_Love is like a sin my love,_

Canines cut the fleshy fold that margined the lower rim of a mouth.

_For the one that feels it the most,_

And from the severed fleshy fold, roseate fluid trickled.

_Look at her with her smile like a flame,_

Then white teeth bared naked, scheming.

_She will love you like a fly will never love you, again._

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Paradise Circus" by Massive Attack (Recommended: Gui Boratto Remix)

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for Change<strong>

**mylovelyminion**: Thank you! Great to hear your feedback. I was really doubting putting lemons in here.

**AlexisBlade**: Dream girl will be back on a flashback. But that'll be... Let's just say far from now. As for Wynne... I upgraded it to two and a half days, is that cool? xD I realized that you could be right. But two and a half days should be enough time to adjust. Especially when every single second of it, you fight alongside each other. Bonds form faster. Plus, Wynne is like that really nice old granny that you just wanna be nice to in return. Except, she's kind of a gilf... HAHA. And I know, that's just how persuading Ophelia is. She's got maximum coercion and 50+ cunning. Lol. I know, that's just game stats. xD I was going to include the scene in between, but figured that could just be plain boring. "Ophelia went to get her clothes, "Morrigan... Blah blah! You sexy thing don't be so rude!"" Etc. Etc. I might do... If more people think that way. AND THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS. Oh, and review. 3

**vileniaveladorn**: WAAA... I don't know if it's truly OOC of Ophelia. Unless you thought it was actually sex? OH GOD, SHE'S PURE LESBO. There are no quotes in "massage," it's just massage. No quotes. I know in the game when he says that, sex follows. But in here, they were just kidding around. Pure stress-free fun. They were just taking a break. Ophelia was exaggerating the massage to be something like sex and Zevran played along. There was no penetration here, whatsoever. With that aside, if it's still OOC, picture people like them irl... Mischievously and coquettishly outspoken... When I was in high school, people pretended to be humping each other for the fun of it all the time. Exaggerating moans and groans. Even straight guys humped other straight guys. And it was funny. I did that scene to follow abruptly to show that Ophelia and Zevran don't need a lot of time to become friends. They're kindred. Also, there will be a triangle at the very least. That happens later on and not out of the blue. Anyway, thank you for reviewing! Because of this review, I know now if I should be careful with things like the massage scene next time.

**FifthFreedom**: Yay! I influenced someone. That makes me feel powerful. Haha. Jk. Hope you keep on reading. Thanks!

**Rin Ryosuke**: Good! Because I'm definitely writing one or two! And yes, I laughed to myself picturing that too. Hope you don't find that too lame... XD

Keep reviewing! People that have this on alert or favorite, I would appreciate it if you reviewed. So I know if you're completely liking it or not.

* * *

><p>AN: First of all, listen to the song after you've finished reading! Then picture the chapter with it, then the events that could happen between them after that, according to the song. It's one of my top favorites, ever! The remix should give you a lot more chills too. Slept with that on repeat so many times and it's 8:08 minutes of hot sex...

Second, if you all are **shocked about the massage scene** last chapter... It was just a massage. I wanted to clarify that. Don't be terrified. Read my feedback for the reviews if you want a detailed explanation of what went on there.

**Third, please review. Tell me if anything's amiss.** I would appreciate your help since you're a frequent reader. I don't have anyone to read this before I post it. I proofread and edit it myself one time after I post it (have you noticed?) What happens is, I write how it occurs in my mind. Sometimes, I could be rushing unto the next scene too fast and I don't notice it. Because in my head, there is a built-in timeline. Everything just makes sense. When this story's finished and I read the whole thing a few months later... You can bet I'll find mistakes and rushed scenes. I almost write like how I draw. I stare at the thing I'm drawing too much and never find mistakes until later. It's a weird thing...

Fourth, a lot of cussing here, huh? It's the only way to express real anger for me. They're not even saying that in their minds but they feel it. You get the idea. Sorry if it's too much for you.

Lastly, fast update, eh? I did this in two days on my iPhone then edited on Word. If I get more than ten reviews per chapter, I might just complete it the very next day. Given I have the time... So keep reviewing if you want a fast update like this one. :)

Oh, and also... Did anyone feel sad when Morrigan drops to the floor and nobody tries to catch her? I know they only show that scene when you use Lady Isolde to enter the Fade, but still... I was like... No, Morri! Don't get a bruise, you too pretty...

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	5. Chapter 5 Basic Space

\

_Minor Edit: March 26th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 5 - <strong>Basic Space<strong>

* * *

><p>Crimson rouge seeped out from an injured obsidian lip. When the lip crooked for a smirk, it swiftly drew a line down a lightly tanned chin, and then it fell and landed on a fair skinned cheek. A brief scoff of delight breathed out from said lips as the bearer of the stained cheek froze in mild confusion.<p>

_Confusion... From self-doubt. No doubt._

"I will not repeat it, Ophelia," Morrigan finally managed a firm tone from her trapped position under the slightly taller and stronger female Grey Warden, "Get. Off." Distinct locks of platinum blonde hair nearly graced her face irritably.

In response, Ophelia only sealed her eyes and slipped a lengthy tongue out to clean the trail of blood on her chin and the wound on her lower lip; her head partly tilted back. All the while, she exaggerated a quiet but breathy moan. Her bright silver eyes were glazed with sadistic seduction once they opened.

The witch felt a sudden jolt of helpless pleasure from the graphic display. Her arms that were held above her head grew weak beyond her wish and lost their ability to resist. The rogue quickly sensed this and loosened her grip on the mage's wrists.

Almost subconsciously – the dark head raised a hand and reached for the muscle that bled. She placed an index on the lip and stared at it, then stared at her watcher from above; a brief gasp and noticeable bat of her eye lashes upon the transition.

_Curious._

Ophelia's shiny orbs narrowed on fire and the smirk she precipitously wore irrepressibly tightened. She was certain of the outcome now, and eagerly claimed her momentary victory on flushed rosy lips.

Morrigan practically swooned inwardly (much to her reluctant surprise) in acceptance of the rogue's second attempt. Her mouth permitted entrance for a slippery clash of tongues and she hummed a tune of agreement audible only to Ophelia. What came next was just the right amount of harsh. _And the exquisite taste. _The taste was the more encouragement to aggressively pull a handful of blonde head closer to her own.

_Metallic and sweet. Metallically sweet._

[-]

_Neck, chest, waist to floor,  
>Easy to take, you could take me in fours,<br>Make me a deal, a day a piece,  
>Take it all, just stay a week.<em>

[-]

Fingertips gently outlined the reposed back of a naked woman. The slit on the tent's fabric permitted the sun's warmth to draw a line on her smooth back, embellishing the tiny creases and hills of her lean toned muscles. Her creamy skin had minor bruises and scratches but it did not detract from her beauty. Her unbundled long hair sprawled freely on her bedroll, some of its dark waves gracing the owner of the caressing digits.

The tickling sensation that roamed up and down her back lead directly to her peaceful awakening. Her bright golden eyes unsealed by a minimum, sufficient enough to peer at the one who woke her.

"Morrigan..." Ophelia whispered soothingly, her bare body rested on a side as she calmly retrieved her questing hand. Her silver irises glimmered with empathy and adoration as she pleaded, "Please stay..."

_How many times had she said those words and was left unanswered?_

Morrigan's eyes shut, not to fall back asleep but to ponder her request. The events that happened the previous night could not be ignored and she rewound it slowly in her mind.

The rogue had deliberately insulted her, hurting her. She could not measure the intense feeling of humiliation she endured that night, and so she fought the emotion away by physical means – slapping Ophelia. Overwhelmed that the blonde then retaliated, she decided to pound an electrifying fist into her gut, marking her official departure.

And yet... The woman that opposed her shadowed her into her tent and begged for her to stay.

Then... She was kissed passionately without her consent. It was equally disturbing as it was outrageously pleasing. But it felt amazingly right, and she returned the favor. Delving deeper – filled with confused lust – they had sex, with the thoughts of the betrayal still wounding her inside and roughly affecting their reconciliation.

Countless times, she dug her sharp nails and pincer teeth into the tanned skin, the thought lingering in her memory as if it had been to symbolize the pain she had sustained and, simultaneously, the craving she disregarded – the craving for Ophelia's sole attention. She was silent the past few days to avoid antagonism, but the truth was that she desired an act of contrition from her – to tempt her into finding what was wrong and apologizing.

After their mutual biting and scratching had dwindled, she experienced the very first intercourse she had that was tender and sincere. Where she did not lure a man to be toyed with... Where she was not dominating another for power... Where whom she had connected with was kept alive...

Every time she orgasmed, she cursed her body for feeling incredible and trembling for more. It was terribly frustrating – such was every aspect of her relationship with Ophelia. She couldn't put a finger on it... But to simplify what she was certain of, the woman had become her guilty pleasure… _With her constant gifts and companionship… And now this…_

"I... Will stay..." she murmured softly, "For the time being." She shifted into a semi-fetal position, facing away to obscure Ophelia's view of her face, "But... Leave me alone to my tent..."

Ophelia smiled with relief, a heavy weight soaring off of her chest. Any sort of agreement from Morrigan was ample for her. _It meant that she would be willing to speak more later_. "Okay..." She quickly stood and searched nearby to grab all her belongings, not to thwart her by hanging about longer than required. She donned on her undergarments then expressed with concern, "And Morrigan..." she parted her tent's coverings and waited to make sure she was listening. When she was, she then declared: "I'm glad."

[-]

_I'll take you in pieces,  
>We can take it all apart,<br>I've suffered shipwrecks right from the start,  
>I've been underwater, breathing out and in,<br>I think I'm losing where you end and I begin._

[-]

"I don't understand why Ophelia couldn't simply let her leave. She had remarkably put her in her place... Yet she herself chased after her. Why? When we were nearly rid of her," Leliana complained to the other standing companions surrounding the inactive campfire, "I can't even imagine what they might've done together in that tent."

Surprisingly, Sten was first to reply in his usual monotone, "The Warden _is_ full of mystery and things that do not make any... Sense."

Wynne contemplated verbally, "Perhaps. But we all have knowledge of her intellect. She is a reasonable woman. Careful and calculative. And as much as I do not approve of Morrigan, her abilities are of use," in here, she chose her words carefully, "However, she's rude and disrespectful. Her spiteful attitude creates unwanted and unnecessary… Strain amongst all of us. Our group would be much better off without her. It is a dilemma Ophelia fails to recognize."

Nutella whined sadly to fill the nonexistent sympathy in the air.

"Or may~be she just likes Morrigan?" Alistair composed a shockingly brilliant supposition. Leliana and Wynne immediately glowered in his direction for complete awareness of that fact which was thus far never mentioned. "Forget I said anything."

Paced footsteps from Antivan leather boots pestered the growing anxiety most of the party possessed.

"Our lovely lady is coming," Zevran twirled a small knife with his fingers and cautiously approached the even sharper daggers aimed at his persistently smiling face, "And quite naked at that, I might add."

Not a minute later, Ophelia languidly appeared in view, her medium armor equipment in hand and half-dragged across the distance. A few feet from them, she had impossibly tripped on her own foot and slumped on the ground in her semi-naked glory. The team steadily enclosed around their leader's prone form, their arms (save for Zevran and Sten's) crossed in obvious disappointment. They examined her shameful show: face to dirt, undergarments ripped, skin bruised, scratched, bitten, and gashed, and hair a tangled disarray.

Ophelia groaned deeply to break the scrutinizing silence, "I feel… As though I've survived another blight," she raggedly puffed out.

She bent her head sideways, peered over three grouchy faces, and particularly focused on one, "I don't suppose you'll help me heal my wounds Wynne?" Her twitching eyes twitched even more upon exposure to the midday sun.

"I'm sorry dear. I'm afraid not today," Wynne exhaled heavily, then veered away.

"You look absolutely…" Leliana made no effort to hide her displeasure, "Terrible! I hope it was worth it," she granted her a final piercing glare, then followed Wynne.

Alistair shook his head, "I was ridiculously pumped after you gave her what she deserved last night. But then – then you had to go in that tent of hers and ruin all that hard work," then he carried on with the ladies.

"We should get going," was all Sten uttered as he departed with the rest.

Ophelia's head dropped in exhausted defeat. The mabari barked and drew near his master. He whined for a moment before licking her somewhat lacerated back.

"That… Stings…" she murmured in pain but laid still.

Zevran whistled noisily, still blissful, "So am I the only one who considers this circumstance a fortunate one?" The question was rhetorical. "I see you drained of energy, my dear. Was she as you expected?"

Ophelia leisurely propped on an elbow and grinned mischievously, "Mmm… Zevran, Zevran… I suppose it accurate to say…" she beamed a smile enough to rival the sun's radiant shine, "I have ninety-nine problems but a witch isn't one."

He chuckled loudly upon her declaration, "Your powers of persuasion are _truly_ impressive," then he lent a hand to assist her up, "Though I wonder, is she as bruised and battered as you are? Or did you play… The obedient masochist?"

She snickered in her stumble to get up, "Come now, Zevran. You don't really believe me to be as easy as yourself, or… Do you?"

"Haha, of course not my sweet. I cannot even begin to compare myself to such a fascinating woman like you," he gazed up towards the eyes of his taller fellow cajoler who offered a tempting glint.

"Ah, your determination is admirable," Ophelia advanced on Zevran and mesmerized despite her current condition (although the elf surely didn't mind) by resting her forearms on his shoulders and delivering a lax whisper, "But _it _will never happen. You know I only do vaginas." As soon as the smirk formed on her lips, she swerved away and headed to get dressed.

His jaw instantaneously dropped and he kicked the earth where it fell, "Why _you_ – _you_ are a devil woman! And I am hopelessly in love with you!"

The opportunistic female rogue could be heard laughing maniacally.

[-]

_Basic space, open air,  
>Don't look away, when there's nothing there.<em>

[-]

Dressed to kill, Ophelia treaded into the highway's juncture where Zevran had cited they would gather. He was with Sten and Nutella by a tall post sign, purely loafing from boredom. She progressed vigilantly, heedful of the three grumpy members of her party who exhibited a fortified circle on the spacious fork in the road. They dispersed forthwith when Ophelia drew near. _They were ready to talk serious._

"We are very disappointed in you," Wynne announced on behalf of those with her, her aged countenance exhibited their trifling anger.

Ophelia's head was down, ashamed but not downright repentant, "So I've heard..."

"Why… _Why_ did you do it?" Leliana impatiently probed, her voice fairly heartbroken.

"The reality? I feel bad for Morrigan."

Alistair rebutted, moderately angry, "And not for how she treated us?"

Ophelia noticeably inhaled profoundly for an explanation, "You must understand... Morrigan wasn't taught the same things we were. How to treat others with respect, for example. It's not entirely her fault..."

Wynne intoned her input, "Child, that may be... But she could be far from saving."

Ophelia posed a more imperious bearing and admonished, "No, she isn't. You've seen how she was the night of the poker game. She has the capacity!"

"And a few days pass, then she's back to where she started," Alistair negated.

Ophelia muttered with a slower articulation to commiserate, "No... I know you all saw her last night... How she reacted to my insult. She was hurt." She paused for an effect; and their eyes did soften a bit. "I know personally that she was…" Her proclamation was vague in order to conceal her intimate concord with the witch. "This could sound far-fetched, but because of that, I know she will be able to empathize. She can be more civil."

Leliana did not stammer with her interrogation, "But why, Ophelia? _Why_ do you want to help her _this _badly? She doesn't deserve your counseling. You work hard enough as it is... You shouldn't trouble yourself with her..."

Ophelia could distinguish palpable jealousy from the bard this time and she mollified her wariness with account, "She's useful... She took care of our injuries when Wynne wasn't with us... She found me in the Fade... Because of her, Connor is alive..." Her stare derailed off of them temporarily to ruminate then clarified, "Look, I don't need to justify reasons why she should stay. I am the leader of this group. I'm not going to abandon my faith in her even if she is outvoted. I would do the same for any one of you at a conflict between yourselves or me. I will strive to have this team become solid."

"That is honestly inspiring, but..." Wynne rubbed the bridge of her nose, seemingly on the verge of giving up, "She could become more of a risk than she's a help. It might've been better if you just allowed her to leave to prevent any peril."

Leliana protracted a sigh then queried what she had been hesitant of, "Your attachment to her... It's more than what we've perceived, isn't it?" Her lashes fluttered in preparation for the truth. _How could she have preferred her?_

"I do... Like her. And I know her. She has opened herself up to me, little by little. That's why... I can't give up now," Ophelia took a moment to study their indignant but indulgent reactions. "Please... Everyone hear me out. I will do my best to set things right. At present, I cannot persuade Morrigan to apologize to each and every one of you, but she will learn eventually that we do not merit that sort of conduct from her and neither would she from others..." Her hands gradually fell after her emphasizing gestures.

They were speechless for a number of seconds, trading soundless stares.

Alistair submitted, "Blast…" he then paced in small circles, "This is crazy... Keeping her around is crazy..."

"Ophelia... I believe in you, but..." the red head tried to be optimistic but still warned, "You do realize that you're opening up more opportunities for a fight and, perhaps, tearing us all apart instead?"

"Yes, I know... But rest assured, I won't let that happen," Ophelia bobbled her head in a pattern to conclude, "It's final, Morrigan will stay. I apologize for the discomfort this decision might bring..." She suddenly brought her head down to be contrite, "You... May be angry at me, it's fine. I understand."

Wynne reflected on the struggle that must be stirring in the younger woman's heart. _She was young and too noble for her own good. If she succeeded, she would have saved the apostate from a life of empty loneliness and sadness. If she failed, she would be wiser and not easily place her trust on works-in-progress._ She finished her assessment and chose to console her, "You carry enough burdens, as it is. I..." she included Alistair and Leliana, "_We_ will not be an addition."

Leliana was disinclined, but she nonetheless agreed, "I can be more mature than... All this childishness. I can pretend that nothing vulgar was said of me, if you wish for her to stay." _She had no control over who she favored. She had everything she looked up to. She wished she could be the one, in order to change her philandering habits. If she had genuine feelings for her... How fortunate for Morrigan._

Alistair conformed, "It would be ridiculous to condemn you for this. You're the only one that can do this job. I'll follow you wherever, whenever... Even if Morrigan is also at your tail."

Ophelia smiled in gratitude, "Thank you, everyone. This means a whole lot to me. I appreciate you all broadening your tolerance for Morrigan on this tough predicament." She was not wholly cheerful, but at least her spirit was back to its sunny side.

"Yea, yea… But we'll have to get back at her, you know that," Alistair reminded.

Leliana and Wynne only smiled weakly.

At that point, they picked up the sound of footfalls on autumn leaves where Ophelia had derived. Their heartfelt faces plummeted straightaway in spotting something in the distance. She spun around and saw what or _who_ they were anxious of – Morrigan, and she too was recluse in her demeanor.

Ophelia kept her eyes bonded on her even as she had supposed the rest set off without her initiation, their boots clacking away. Jewelries jingled and a staff thumped mutely as the sorceress ambled closer… And closer…

_She really was staying._

[-]

_I'm setting us in stone,  
>Piece by piece, before I'm alone,<br>Air tight, before we break,  
>Keep it in, keep us safe.<em>

[-]

Birds flew high under the dimming sunlight. The highway seemed benign since they left the camp to travel for Orzammar. The group marched quietly with Alistair, Leliana, Wynne, and Sten in the lead, Morrigan strayed far in the middle to the side, and Ophelia, Nutella, and Zevran not distant from her tail.

Zevran had been eyeing Morrigan for the whole duration. He strived to do the incredibly difficult task of searching for any sort of mark marred on her skin.

"You implied that you did not play the obedient masochist, and yet why is it that I cannot find a single mark on her body?" Zevran could hold his nosiness no longer.

"Hmm… What?" Ophelia's mind was wandering, "Uh–no. There should be plenty. With her skimpy clothing, you should be feasting your eyes on many. I made sure–oh." She paused for a revelation.

He blinked, "Yes?"

"Tsk tsk. That sly little minx…" she quirked a brow and pursed her discolored lips, "She healed all the wounds in her upper body."

He scoffed, "Every single one?"

"Makes a leader think twice before forcing her comrades into spirit healing lessons, huh?" she glanced at him with a slight look of self-disgust.

"Alas, it's your fault–" he was soon interjected.

"On second thought, her hood is up," her eyes lit.

"Oh? And how should we go about revealing–" and, again, interjected.

"Darkspawn!" Ophelia alerted in a voice loud enough for the group to hear. She crept to an angle hidden from the enemies' view then pointed at an area lower than theirs and her followers observed close by.

"Fool," Morrigan casually joined from behind but remained detached, "You realize 'tis bandits you uncovered?"

_That piercing deliverance she usually used on her expressed approachableness. She would be able to discuss with her soon._

Ophelia turned to regard her disbelievingly, "Yes. But they astonishingly appear just as horrid. No?" She winked and the witch's irises rotated skywards.

"And… What should we do?" Alistair questioned.

"We should sneak past the path and leave," Leliana rendered a few nods in the assembly with her suggestion.

"_Nooo~_ We'll sneak _into_ the path and loot these looters," Ophelia declared in an authoritative tone which meant the plan was set.

"I figured you'd probably say that," a long sword unsheathed from Alistair's side, "Let's go."

"By _sneak_, you mean _eventually get caught_? Therefore enabling you to purge the road so that the succeeding passersby may be entirely safe from harm?" Morrigan naturally disapproved in that disapproving tone of hers.

"Obviously," the corners of Ophelia's lips curved upwards, "You may sit and merely watch if you'd like," and she gestured towards a protruding rock formation.

Morrigan smiled back, "How _very_ thoughtful of you," then she scoffed and took the seat that was directed for her, "Fine. Continue if it thrills you."

They descended down the hillside until Ophelia raised a steady hand for a halt. Her manner of speech and tone instantly changed upon every upcoming battle; she was serious now. "You guys know the drill," her game face was on and her furtive stance apparent. "Leliana?" she inquired.

Leliana pulled her longbow's string and squinted her eyes for a chosen target. As per usual, Ophelia ascertained her friend's preparedness before she headed onwards to produce her stealthy first hit.

Like a snake on smooth floor, the steps she made effortlessly bent no sound. An ending heartbeat later, a lone victim's neck had already been slit and the archer's arrow had simultaneously struck another kill farther from the initial.

The bandits lingered about unaware of their slain acquaintances that the assassin had blended in and claimed a kill. Their meticulous process went on till a fifth opponent had collapsed on the ground, in which another startled bandit far off had seen a corpse and yelled ambush. The Templar took this cue and charged in with a mighty war cry, attracting the bulk of the bandits. The Qunari and war dog keenly joined the festivities while the senior enchanter studied the fray for support.

The witch peacefully spectated in her spot under the trees, arms and legs crossed, hidden from the fight. She specifically analyzed the woman whom she had shared a bedroll with. She truly abhorred most, if not all, of what the woman stood for. The cluelessness in the way she aided others was an act; Morrigan knew. She knew as much that Ophelia typically had the best intentions for the weak. She coerced and compromised her with irrelevant excuses, but all situations boiled down to a single end result - some pathetic failures benefiting from their hard labor. Everything Morrigan believed in, Ophelia painstakingly endeavored to do the opposite.

Furthermore, Ophelia was a woman. And she had slept with her and allowed herself to be indulged in the course. It was an affinity she couldn't believe she had the capacity for. In the past, she had only been attracted to men. Not ever with women. Women tended to lack the ambitious qualities of the other sex. Not to mention, the muscular strength that they were born with by default. By nature, they had more power. Despite this, she could not stop herself from being severely intrigued by her; a feeling she severely despised.

Golden yellow eyes were stuck on the gallant rogue like a lizard trapped in a web. Ophelia's short and sleek satin blonde ponytail flowed in time with her twin daggers' consecutive strikes, accenting her twists and turns with more motion. The custom fashionable armor she sported was hardly ever stained by the blood whose color it closely resembled. She had modestly admitted she was too lazy to clean it, so she prevented any means of soiling it. But that wasn't the simple case – she was purely skilled that blood never had to come into contact with her armor or skin. She could fight naked, had it been requested.

The feminine Grey Warden fought with the intensity and prowess of a man, yet with the grace and finesse of a woman. Every movement she performed could be easily compared to a dance. Every movement was visually appealing: like they were previously choreographed to perfection. Every movement was properly connected to the next: like there were no alternatives. Every movement served a purpose – and each purpose was sinuously executed.

Her precise actions mirrored her face – calm but confident and infinitely thinking. _And her eyes._ Her diamond globes burned cold with controlled passion when she fought. They were at odds to the careless gaze she donned moments ago. But there was always a mysterious mask – they hid something secret.

Morrigan was about to look elsewhere when Ophelia had captured her watchful stare. She couldn't fathom why, but she had begun to sprint towards her. She stood, as if there were nothing wiser. Then the thought occurred to her. She whirled around and found what Ophelia sought.

"DUCK!" Ophelia demanded with a scream.

In the instant Morrigan obeyed, a spiraling dagger impaled a bandit's skull inches behind her. Thuds came from both the bandit's fall and her stagger backwards unto the grass, speechless.

Ophelia climbed up the hill and retrieved her sunken blade, then gazed at the mage with evident worry on her face, "Are you unscathed?" She offered a gloved hand to pull her up.

"Yes," Morrigan gripped it firmly and got on her feet.

"Hate to treat you like a damsel in distress," Ophelia started with a bit of sympathy. Beads of sweat traced down her defined visage as she panted faintly. "But is it too much to ask of you to sit and wait – WITHOUT GETTING YOURSELF _KILLED_?" she ended with a bellow.

"'Twas not to seek for your attention! Laugh if you must, but I simply got distracted!" Morrigan retorted, hands placed solidly on her hips. She challenged the woman three inches taller than her.

"_Distracted?_ Distracted by what? Did an archdemon fly by? Did a meteor fall from the sky?" Ophelia unexpectedly rhymed and decided to continue for all it was worth, "Or is it my beautiful face? For which you couldn't remove your gaze?"

"Ha! How astoundingly poetic of you!" the witch mocked, "But no. And certainly _not _the latter," and she lied.

"Is there something wrong here?" Wynne butted in, oblivious to the thickening tension.

"No!" they echoed each other as they faced her.

Wynne visibly flinched from their harmonious objection. "Forgive me for asking…" she put a hand on her chest to ease her weariness. The rest of the group gathered not too long after the elderly woman and they gawked at the quarreling couple expectantly.

Alistair arrived last, "We've cleared the area. There are no bandits left alive, I think…" He waited for Ophelia's brows to furrow unevenly before he proclaimed, "Yea, there are no bandits left alive."

"Good. Then it's looting time," she delayed to scan the zone, "Excluding Wynne and Morrigan: find anything useful, valuable, etc. And return here."

Sten stretched a hand out to present a wrapped item, "May I keep this?"

She anticipated the question, "Yes, Sten. Take it if it's cake. But be sure to part a slice for me," and she grinned pleasantly.

"Thank you," he stoically replied.

One or two restrained giggles afterwards, the delegated team proceeded to their task, except Leliana. She spotted something and asked about it completely out of impulse, "Is she okay?" she was referring to Morrigan, "What's that on her–um, no. Never mind…" She promptly disappeared with the others, frightened of the blush tempting to creep on her cheeks.

"How awkward. Was she speaking of me?" the dark head contemplated as the red head fled. Wynne and Ophelia both lifted their shoulders for a dunno.

Zevran overheard and reverted in a cinch, "I have a clue, if I am permitted to be so bold."

"Boldness is devoid of diffidence, elf," Morrigan corrected, her chin at a haughty angle.

"Ah, then I shall _spit it out,"_ he cleared his throat, "You've forgotten to raise the hood over your head, my dear," then he smirked coolly with his announcement. Ophelia couldn't suppress her laugh.

Morrigan hastily drew her hood up at the statement and glared at him, "Satisfied? Now, begone."

"Yes, very. And as you wish," he made a minor bow for his cheerful friend before he strode away.

Morrigan provided Ophelia with the same penetrating glower, but the rogue didn't falter a tad if it disintegrated her.

"How bad is it? I beg of you, let me have a peek of my accomplishment?" Ophelia pleaded as she went by her side and wrapped an arm on the small of her back.

She was sharply rejected as Morrigan sneered, "You would sooner beg for a quick death when I am done with you."

Ophelia involuntarily retreated to her original spot, "Idle threats, Morrigan? You could do better."

Wynne sighed to remind them she was present, "You two are like quarreling children. Not that this old woman's complaining: but did you need me?"

They rolled their eyes in sync at her first comment. Only Ophelia addressed her second.

"Yes. I did," she passed Morrigan to get closer to the older healer, "Remember that question I asked you this morning? Well now it's become a favor. The wounds aren't bad, but they grow uncomfortable when fighting with armor. I would appreciate if you could at least heal some of them."

"Hmm… Alright ," Wynne kindly considered the young lady's plead, "But you know that the exact cause for your wounds was totally preventable."

"Yes, I know," Ophelia chuckled adorably.

"Is my presence to be maintained ignored?" Morrigan huffed a fleeting sound of disdain and they gave her their immediate attention. "Leave the old woman to scavenge with the others," she converged in between them (with Wynne gladly stepping out of the way) and brought Ophelia's right hand in hers, "I will do this for you."

Ophelia was a little taken aback by Morrigan's sudden hospitality and... Touch. At any rate, she acknowledged her proposition by politely shooing Wynne, "Another time then, Wynne. Thank you."

"It's not a problem. I'll join the others," the elderly woman took her leave bereft of another word.

"This is your way of thanking me, I take it?" Ophelia began once Wynne was out of sight.

"I'm not without gratitude where 'tis due," Morrigan bestowed a warm smile that somewhat melted her heart. _The woman was unpredictable at times._

Morrigan released her hand and returned to sit on the boulder where she was almost possibly slain. Ophelia copied her and settled on a seat adjacent from hers. She took the initiative and removed her gauntlets and breastplate, then stretched her upper body for a few seconds. Her head drooped when she slouched, her elbows on her knees.

Smooth fingers grazed her relaxed back and she silently jumped.

"Relax..." Morrigan instructed and laid her palms against her bare skinny shoulders. Dim white light let loose from her hands and, as they descended down her spine, they slowly repaired the damage they had done the night before. _The essence of treatment was amusing._

"Tell me what distracted you, exactly," the patient insisted, eyes shut and fully entranced by the soothing warmth the witchdoctor distributed on her torso.

"Are we really on this topic – _again_?" Morrigan whined, tempted to claw at her back once more and maybe do it in bear form.

"Yes. You _were _thinking of me, if not gazing upon my face," Ophelia spoke what she perceived in a solemn manner, "Heterosexual women normally question their sexuality, and other emotions, after their first homosexual encounter – given that it was good or there was a connection."

Morrigan giggled skeptically, "Oh? And is that what you think? Or experienced?"

"Think and know from past paramours. I was born a lesbian," she was uttered a straightforward response.

"And how is one born a lesbian?" she blurted another question.

"The same way one is born with preferences for food, I reckon," Ophelia unsealed one eye to peer, "Will you answer my question or not?"

_No use to avoid or lie to the cunning woman._

Morrigan heaved a sigh to muster her courage, "I do... Admire you, in many ways I cannot say," she confessed in a sincere voice, "You are not a man, nor do you pretend to be one. And yet, you have similar attributes that I find… Attractive." _And the fact that she was a woman made it the more so._

Ophelia saw her eyes had softened somewhere during the procedure and couldn't help but meet her eyes directly. Morrigan detached her hands, stunned, "'Tis not finished. Turn about."

"So, am I to understand that I am an exception from other women?" Ophelia probed, her expression inviting.

"Do not be hasty! 'Twas mere infatuation," Morrigan grasped the mischief's slightly toned biceps when she leaned in.

Ophelia's face was a breath away from the sorceress's. "I'm well aware. No strings attached," she gaped at her intently for a reaction.

Morrigan deliberated while she eyeballed her slender arms, where her hands rested. _Femininely slim, but vigorous – such was every feature of her. Oh, why not?_

Her fingers trailed to her collarbone, then her neck, then her jaw, and then on her halcyon cheeks, where they stayed. She relinquished a pacifying wave of energy, and the blemishes on her regal visage vanished.

"Morrigan?" Ophelia called – and was answered by sapid lips securing her own.

The temptress did not hold back and darted her tongue before the prime mover, clutching the blonde's head at an angle in her liking. Their heated mouths wedged against each other at familiar slanting that arose naturally and their eyes closed to savor the kiss. Ophelia merely swayed with her at whatever direction she selected in their sensual dance of tongues. Her hands braced on the stone she was on for as long as the kiss lasted, whiffing a noseful of her smell.

_It's a pool of boiling wax,  
>I'm getting in,<br>Let it set,  
>Got to seal this in,<br>Can't adjust, can't relearn,  
>Got to keep what I have, preserve.<em>

When they broke off for desperate air, Ophelia modeled a flabbergasted façade and blinked continuously.

The grass grew, and Morrigan's impatience took its toll, "Why do you stare at me dumbly? Have you not had a kiss like that in your entire life of fornication?"

Ophelia retained her dumb mien, "You… You do move on extremely fast. You're not mad at me anymore?"

Morrigan snickered lightheartedly.

It was true. She wasn't _that_ mad anymore. She spent hours on thinking and simmered down in the sequence. Ophelia was an influential figure and she had been undeniably influenced. To a degree that would straightly affect her actions, however? She was uncertain if she had the aptitude. _But the topic would arise…_

"I am not a wounded puppy if that is what you expected. I do not sulk as prolonged a time as the others might," she batted her eyelashes with self-assurance. "And you're…" she glimpsed down to frolic with her bracelet, "Hmm… What's the word I'm looking for…"

"Convincing? Brilliant? Amazing? Sexy?"

Morrigan beheld her, marginally coy, "Charming." Ophelia barely caught it, but her speech quivered by an infinitesimal at the beginning of her forthcoming sentence: "I cannot continue to be livid after what happened between us. What you did… Albeit what occurred before it…" _No one had ever cared that much… _"Was adequate..."

"Adequate?" Ophelia scrutinized her wordings, an eyebrow tilting. _She will never let her in fully… But it was fine. One at a time but in strides._ "Well… Then I'm happy that it was 'adequate,'" She stated favorably then steadily reverted to her previous position, "You said you weren't done?"

"Ah, yes. Let me finish," Morrigan wriggled her fingers for a speedy warm-up then continued with her ministrations, palms relaxing against her skin once more. Shockingly, she initiated the next subject without much transition, "And what of you? Do you not tire of me?"

"Heh…" Ophelia's eyes were secure. "I believe you are a good person, Morrigan. You have a dense, impenetrable shell and refuse to let anyone see inside it. But I have conviction. And I don't even need to beg you to be substantially nice, because I think you will be, after yesterday."

Morrigan's hands dawdled on both shoulder blades, "_Ugggh…_ Do not be so reliant solely on that conviction. You will find yourself… Disappointed."

An eye pored over her. "Tell me I didn't offend you last night then."

"What does that have to do with––"

"Tell me."

Ensuing in strangling seconds, a subtle gulp. "You offended me."

"Then you are more humane than you give yourself credit," Ophelia ascribed then concealed her exposed eye with an eyelid.

"And you suspect that because of my newfound 'humaneness' I will be regularly courteous to everyone? _Hah_," Morrigan's fingers strayed to her sides, knitting her last lesions, "You are the only person that has earned such lenience from me."

The curer's touch vanished totally before the rogue assumed she was done and she snatched her charcoal undershirt from the ground. She draped it around her arms but didn't put her head in, "Who's to say that you can't develop that lenience over time?" then she outfitted the garment then gazed at her, "You have created that 'lenience' for me and by doing so, you have already been lenient with other prospects since you comply with me."

Morrigan remained on her seat and refuted solemnly, "You are wrong. 'Twas only for you, and you alone. 'Tis a thing that is earned, not hastily given. They have earned nothing from me. And simply because they are courteous, does not equal my being courteous to them."

Ophelia pressed her feet on the ground to stand then pressed Morrigan, "I really did not want to bore you with philosophy… But to be courteous is not a simple façade, Morrigan," she faced her and tested, "I recognize your incivility as a reflection of your former life of seclusion. Currently, you live amongst the 'world of man.' Basic civility is displayed to achieve order."

"I have said this to Leliana before..." Morrigan stood as well to accept her challenge, "But attempting to impose order over chaos is futile. Nature is, by its very nature, chaotic."

"On the contrary, we are more intelligent than wild animals," Ophelia reached for her remaining raiment, "Unless… You preferred to live amongst them." She slipped on her armor pieces to give the mage some time to think then she prodded, "Tell me, honestly, do you fancy chattering with trees instead of me?"

Morrigan half-snarled, "Are you _trying_ to infuriate me?"

"No. Honestly, tell me." The statement was forthright and nonchalant.

"No… I prefer to chatter with you," she disclosed with a sour face.

Ophelia advanced towards her, "You are a social being, Morrigan. Therefore, you can adapt. We are civil because we are human. To live in the 'world of man' you must be civil in order to survive…" She took a breather to open an opportunity for her rebuttal, but the apostate did not debate. So she persisted, "I'm sorry if my guidance is bothersome, but… I _care_, Morrigan. You may hate civility and order and government… But for a good analogy, ponder this… I govern this team, for example, and you follow it."

"_It_ was not my choice…" Morrigan's yellow irises were anywhere but on hers, stubborn to smoothly succumb.

_Basic space, open air,  
>Don't look away, when there's nothing there.<em>

"But you continued to follow. Because you can adapt."

"I… _Why are you so impossibly infuriating?" Smart-ass-aleck foolhardy buffoon..._

Ophelia grinned then spread her arms out and Morrigan flinched. Before she could flee from the impending contact, Ophelia hugged her forcibly. Morrigan squealed a miniscule 'no' and strove to push away as her disapproval, but Ophelia held on, "A person with different beliefs and perspectives does not deserve to be personally attacked for their differences, Morrigan." She whispered into her ear, "Like what I have mistakenly done to you out of chagrin."

"I, infinitely_, loathe_ you…" Morrigan beat a fist into her backbone twice but it was pointless. Her heart's pulse melded with the scoundrel and she was frightened that it pulsated too fast that she would sense it like she sensed hers… And hers was lulling.

Ophelia's embrace was utterly innocent. She yanked her hood down and buried her face into her untied hair. "You don't need to be a prophet to be civil… Your mean-spiritedness _can_ be humorous… Just don't make it too personal."

[-]

_Hot wax has left me with a shine,_  
><em>Wouldn't know if I'd been left behind,<em>  
><em>Second skin, second skin.<em>

[-]

Once dusk had finally fallen and gone, the party progressed forward as much as they could until it was minutes from midnight. Ophelia wrapped up the day, as usual, by granting the group the respite they desired. However, she guaranteed an early departure for the upcoming day.

Each member (excluding Morrigan) had built their individual tents and chatted by their large bonfire. The leader had nearly completed her routine check of her friends around the camp and, just like every night, she concluded with Morrigan's isolated shelter. She was getting ready to set up her tent when Morrigan disrupted her... In a playfully salacious notion.

"'Tis cold in my tent, all alone," the solitary witch mused aloud.

Ophelia abandoned her work and attended to her like the good little helper she was. She approached her with a sanguine grin, "Well, you've picked the best candidate. I can fix that for you. It just so happens that I'm a proficient handyman."

Morrigan teased with a licentious giggle as she sauntered closer, "And it just so happens that I find you… Quite warm."

"Do you now?" Ophelia was roughly hauled by means of the stylish belt she harnessed. Their foreheads met and she equally matched Morrigan's widened smirk. She breathed out low and tasteful, "Let's see this cold tent of yours, then."

"So you shall come to my tent? But whatever shall we do in that tiny little space together while we wait for it to warm?" Morrigan fiddled with the accessory; their eyes flatteringly locked.

"I'll leave the details for later," Ophelia hinted for foreplay.

A high-pitched breath of amusement escaped Morrigan's lips before she licked her sultry lips, "Good. Then let us waste no more time with foolish talk," the Witch of the Wilds dragged her by the same fastening and she happily tailed her like a dog on a leash into her tent.

[-]

_I can't let it out, I still let you in,  
>I can't let it out, I still let you in.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Basic Space" by The XX

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><p><strong>Feedback for Paradise Circus<strong>

**Moral Attention**: Thank you for being the first to say it's witty! That does make me feel very special. In the good kind of way. :D One lemon will be soon, I promise. ;D

**Dalish Elf**: Glad you love it. And I will keep writing so long as you all keep reviewing. Good deal, no? And yes, lemon soon. :3

**qweenseeker**: Oh c'mon. You gotta say more when you're done being speechless. So why did you say wow?

**Rin Ryosuke**: AHA. Gotta love the iPhone. You can write on notepad with it whenever you have the time. Like a lot of waiting, for example... That's what I did a lot of. Yes, I wrote most of it on iPhone. Things that don't need any citing are usually what I tackle when I'm not on my computer. Wrote how I would basically say it then if there are any too many duplicated words I replace them on MS Word. My iPhone has an offline dictionary/thesaurus app too. How cool is that? So good to use for those unproductive moments you have, y'know? Just pull out your phone and start writing. Thanks for the compliment also.

**Gemini1179**: Who knows just what kind of massage Zevran gave her? They could fool anyone with anything with their ruckus. XD There's no penetration though. Don't worry. Haha. Anyway... You're good at predicting what the next chapter might have with those questions. Lol. But to answer you what wasn't answered in this chapter... Ophelia is also reminded of her childhood mentor/friend (refer to chapter 3) whenever she's with Morrigan. And you make it sound like her attraction is shallow and has no depth. She is sort of a perv but her attraction for her is more than that. xD

**ScOut4It**: It's fine. So long as you come back and review, I'll be happy. :D And if you're dissatisfied with how fast Ophelia got in her bed... Well, in my defense, Morrigan is pretty easy to bed. Especially if she was male. Lol. You could have her before Lothering if you say the right words. It will take longer for her to get to the 'love' meter though. Wait for that. It will be huge. Anyway, I await your return. :)

**Andy Lewis**: Sorry if it's rushed for you. I'm not certain for now just how rushed it is. Is it the writing itself (details)? Or the plot? I'll have to finish the fic then look at it as a whole before I can really judge since I'm the writer, I suppose. Perhaps my making really long chapters and not dividing it into smaller 1k to 2k word chapters made it feel a little rushed? I could use an editor, really. But I don't know if I even want to wait for the editor to finish before I start posting because I like to make use of my free time. XD Is this one slowed down enough for you? And thanks for the compliment

**Keep reviewing!** Why do some of you hide from me and lurk? Drop a line or something! Really, you don't know how much you could inspire me...

* * *

><p>AN: This is pretty much 'What You Are' with the things that was left out because that one was a preview/teaser.

Tell me... Do you guys prefer 1k to 2k word chapters? Something tells me that my story will seem longer if I gave you guys brief periods of wait before reading the next scene to sort of think things over.

That's all I have to say for now... Unless I think of something to mention overnight.

Check my art. I swear, if you like this fic or femslash in general... There's something new in there that you'll like. You won't be disappointed!

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	6. Chapter 6 My Time

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_Minor Edit: March 27th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 6 - <strong>My Time<strong>

* * *

><p>Numerous white cumulus clouds gobbled up the immaculately blue space of the sky. The midday sun coyly hid somewhere above their puffiness that it only shone partly unto an idle forest below. A rainbow hovered over the woods to complete the children's storybook setting. All was quiet but essentially joyous like the day was a group of Tranquils partying.<p>

That is, until a shrill shriek of a loud bird echoed in the skies, piercing through the peaceful silence.

The powerful cry came from an eagle, its enlarged head emerging from the clouds to reveal its entire body - the body of a lion.

Lo and behold, it was a griffin! The legendary creature that the population of Thedas believed to be extinct had returned. The mighty monster had possibly been revived to aid the Grey Wardens in their quest to slay the archdemon.

The proud griffin's long grey tail whipped around as it flew, its imposing white wings flapping heavily that it parted the surrounding clouds into portions. On its back mounted a woman, her blonde strands wavering frantically away from her as they rushed together through the opposing wind. The finely armored lady rode the mystical beast with one hand gripping its fluffy mane and the other fist-pumping the air as if to encourage the griffin to zoom faster into their destination.

_"Wooohooo!"_ she yelled enthusiastically, "Let us finally slay that foul demon!" Her hysterical hand calmed to point onwards, "TO THAT INSUFFERABLE BITCH OF A DRAGON!" Optimistic and determined, she steered her mount headlong for the darkening atmosphere in the distance.

Eventually, the blue of the skies turned to red, the white of the clouds turned to black, and the colorful rainbow turned to thunderous lightning. Despite the danger, they advanced without the slightest hesitance.

After much dodging of crackling electricity, they reached the epicenter of the chaos - but shockingly, they found no darkspawn. Confused, the Warden patted the griffin for a halt and it agreed by slowing down. They floated in circles but they were basically unmoving from their spot. She scrutinized the wasteland below while they soared, her eyebrows creasing at its emptiness.

Tired of waiting, she hollered, "Show your horrendous face, archdemon! I am not afraid of you!"

"Ophelia..." it quickly replied omnipotently, the source of the deep sinister voice untraceable.

She dallied for it to appear. When it didn't, she provoked, "Calling me without presenting yourself?" She rubbed her chin with an index and thumb questioningly, "I see... Scared to have us whoop your ass?"

"Ophelia..." it called again. This time, the voice was quite womanly.

She scoffed then giggled, "Are you trying to seduce me, archdemon?"

"Ophelia..." it christened once more, keeping its feminine voice yet now somewhat beguiling. _And it sounded familiar..._

She cringed from a revelation, "Morrigan?"

The Old God promptly materialized in front of her at the name, its humungous wings covering its form as it spun a single time. When it uncovered itself, it unleashed a paralyzing whirlwind with it, flattening the lifeless trees underneath. The griffin fluttered its wings in rapid motions, maintaining its balance midair while it squawked for control. She hugged her mount for dear life, inwardly praying that she wouldn't fall off.

The rushing wind stopped, then the archdemon jutted its face forward to meet her, its devilish yellow orbs tapering at her frightened face. It roared, its screech reverberating in her ears and making them ring painfully, so she lessened the aching with her hands.

_"GAAAH!"_ she shouted in panic but froze sharply when it stuck its extensive tongue out and licked her, shutting her up. The demon retreated for a moment––––then its head transformed into the woman she dreaded it had to be.

She bolted upright from pure disbelief, "MORRIGAN?" She reeled back as it tried to lick her another time, arms protectively blocking, "NO, IT CAN'T BE! WHY?"

"N-NO!"

"NO!"

"_NOOOooo–––––_!"

Then Ophelia awoke.

Her eyelids carefully unsealed by a mere centimeter, head reposed sideways on a pillow. It was dark, but thanks to a convenient split in her tent, the moon made it possible for her to see. She sensed warmth slickening on her leg before she simultaneously sensed a damp and feebly bumpy muscle slickening her cheek. She grunted in surprise and drowsiness (but mainly drowsiness) then tilted her head in search for the one who woke her.

Morrigan was on top of her in a dominant stature, utterly nude since their last excursion. Her smooth thighs were on either side of her bare left leg, trapping it. She was bent down with her arms extended, hands pinning her shoulders in place. Her bewitching lashes batted in a scheming pattern when she seductively whispered by her chin, her breath tickling, "_Hey…_"

Ophelia didn't move a bit when she grumbled her lazy answer, "_Mmmmm..._ What...?" _Damn, this woman wouldn't let her sleep._

Morrigan chuckled playfully, "_You know what_..." then she pushed against her stuck leg, implying her immediate notion.

The bitchy Witch of the Wilds might've been a rude, disrespectful, menacing harpy, snarling the nastiest retorts at her do-goodness whenever she got the chance at daytime. However, came nightfall? Tents up? Clothes off? Panties down? She instantly shapeshifted into a demanding randy little minx, compelling her lecherous treatments on her the second she laid within her sheets. As much as it was thrilling, it was also very grueling.

Exhausted to argue for slumber she knew would be disturbed either way, Ophelia calmly settled her palms on the minx's hips to hold her steady for what she deemed would soon follow.

[-]

_Turn off the lights,  
>Touch me in the dark,<br>Fade into the feeling,  
>Whisper in my ear,<br>What you want,  
>What you need,<br>Tell me my name,  
>Tell me my name,<br>Again, again, again, again,  
>Just yell out my name, baby.<em>

[**NSFW**]

Morrigan grit her lower lip in while she began to gyrate, swirling her silky hair to neatly rest on a shoulder. Ophelia's grip on her hips traveled to her rear as the dark head grinded harder, her bite noticeably tightening with her smirk and... Her arousal.

_"Hmmmmm..."_ Morrigan hummed in a trance and stared at her hungrily, her bright golden irises sparkling with unlimited lust.

Ophelia was passive, patiently studying her greedy partner as she rocked backwards and forwards on her thigh relentlessly. _How long had she been sleeping? An hour?_

_"Mmm-ah!"_ A small gasp. Morrigan stroked stronger than she had intended, and it staggered her, but she didn't pause.

Ophelia remained cool; her silver orbs seemed to be glowing from the weak illumination of the moon in her tent. She watched her with a carelessness that rather annoyed. Her short platinum blonde hair sprawled freely and attractively, but her succulent lips weren't painted, removing the intensity from her usual aura. In addition, she was also still naked, sharing her susceptibility.

Morrigan concealed her eyes and meditated on preserving her control. She gradually straddled her to the point where her muted humming transitioned to muted gasps and her back curved with every thrust of her pelvis, marrying her core to her thigh.

Unbeknownst to her, Ophelia was falling back asleep. The only hint she was given was her hands losing their grasp on her behind.

Morrigan's eyes opened and widened at the discovery of the rogue, indeed, soundlessly snoozing, her breathing lax and face expressionless.

Her right eye twitched from irritation. _How could she be so dismissive of her endeavor to inspire her with a sexual display? Certainly she wasn't so futile to be so easily ignored. And she was definitely not going to be._

Morrigan lifted her folded legs, hesitating a miniscule as her dampness clung on for a split second. She used her knees to maneuver over the prone hips, waist, chest, then shoulders. Dallying to first play a grin, she leisurely descended upon the sleepyhead, particularly aiming to land over her mouth. _She couldn't be disregarded now._

[-]

_I've got your nights (I've got your nights)  
>I've got your days (I've got your days)<br>I've got you on (I've got you on)  
>My time.<em>

[-]

Ophelia swung horizontal slashes at the archdemon as it rammed the air, missing her by minor inches. The minute it nearly struck her for the hundredth time, she lunged her daggers to spear its eyes.

Although, to no avail...

The dragon growled victoriously as its jaws fell ajar, sharp teeth directly above her, swallowing her alive.

Everything went black.

That was when she realized Morrigan's nether lips on her lips, swallowing her alive...

Ophelia handled her bottom as if to ask for freedom, suffocated by the licentious assailment.

Morrigan did not care; instead, she made sure she even hit her nose while she clutched her head for support, excruciatingly pulling at her hair.

Ophelia mumbled disagreements, but she continued, the smell and taste of her stimulation apparent. She glared at her Machiavellian grin while she did a rodeo on her face. _Persistent witch..._ _She would force this upon her? So be it. Two could play that game. _She snuck her tongue out to finally greet her, the slippery connection bitterly sweet._  
><em>  
>Morrigan positively cried out, throwing her head back from the shock. She increased the friction at the opportunity and pursued her climax, moaning at full volume.<p>

Ophelia retained her tongue's sturdiness and permitted Morrigan to abuse it to her liking, the activity audibly obscene.

_"Hanh~ahh!"_ Morrigan's thighs started to quiver, a much awaited cue for Ophelia.

The incumbent leader hurriedly and vigorously flipped their positions, slamming Morrigan's rear on her pillow. She was on all fours on the bedroll and the temptress was reclined on her elbows, fractionally on a mat, her cat eyes beholding hers in baffled accusing blunder. It was Ophelia's time to grin like a Machiavellian prick, what with her index finger teasing the swollen nub.

"_Mmm~AH!" _Morrigan was incapable of contending as she involuntarily arched her spine rearwards from the luscious sensation. The finger rubbed her at an agonizing pace and she rolled her head in sync with the tiny ring the dexterous mischief repeatedly drew, her moans drawing out in prolonged ecstasy.

Ophelia snickered as she observed her past her heaving milky breasts, goose bumps accentuating her overtly erotic pose.

Morrigan heard her and desperately begged for release. "Stop teasing!" she commanded in a rushed voice without even looking at her.

"Not yet," Ophelia declared and crawled up to view her buggered but flustered mien, her right hand still administering her frustration.

Morrigan practically flinched at the adjusted proximity but had no chance to question it as Ophelia glossed her earlobe with saliva, then her warm neck, then her shapely collarbone, then she lingered on her creamy left breast.

Ophelia wrapped her lips around the carnation pink areola, her tongue roving around its perimeter. She enveloped the whole nipple with her lips, before flicking the protuberance she netted inside. She did lap after lap of the same process in congruence with the lone finger that hogged her sensitive bulb.

_"Annh!"_ Morrigan balled her fists into the crumpled sheets, sustaining the heightened pleasure between her legs.

Her left breast was nipped innumerable times before Ophelia switched to the right, her left hand replacing her mouth's former station. She mirrored the kneading done by both her hands with her lips and tongue, absolutely focused on driving the Witch of the Wilds wild.

Morrigan's upkeep dropped with a boisterous whimper and she irrepressibly slumped in a heap of pestered rapture, exhaling heavily. Yet, she had not gained her desired relief.

Ophelia tumbled with her, smirking. Oh, but she wasn't finished. She would protract the debauchery 'til Morrigan was undeniably drained. Her attentive mouth and hands delayed not too long in the breakdown before they reclaimed their craft.

Morrigan clasped the blonde head firmly. "Finish it!" she impatiently demanded, her mound digging into her hand.

Ophelia raised her head and gazed at her quizzically, "You _want _it?"

"Yes!"

"Say please."

A forlorn murmur: "_Please_..."

She scoffed, then her head drooped to kiss her passionately, delving a sleek tongue into her mouth as she delved a slender digit past her wet folds and into her heat.

_"MMMMMM!"_ Morrigan squealed into her mouth, her legs unbearably shaking from the tremor.

Ophelia's thumb put pressure on her center while her single finger plunged in and out of her. She rendered a dozen muffled groans in their kiss then combed through her velvety ebony hair before she seized her skull in preparation for the next phase... And she darted her middle finger in.

Morrigan urgently swerved away from the kiss, _"AHH–YES!"_ In harmony with the delicious rhythm,she recited in a mantra by her ear:_ "Anh––anh––anh––!"_ fiercely embracing her like it was a part of the practice.

The coupled digits mercilessly plowed deeply into her even with the tight constriction, her delicate juices flowing out as they did. They felt a distinct texture in the midst of her depths and collided unto them, her thumb pressing her hardened button in correspondence with it.

_"AAAHH!"_ Once.

_"HANHH!"_ Twice.

_"HAAAANNHHHH!" _Three solid collisions _– _and the witch convulsed, her inner walls clamping down on the imprisoned fingers as her mouth flew agape in a speechless scream. Her vertebra arched high, her hands clawed her back, her legs stretched, her toes curled, and her head wailed from side-to-side. All the while in her euphoric turbulence, she released a flood of clear, less-dense fluid on the nimble hand.

"Oh…" Ophelia expressed in astonishment, gently retrieving her drenched fingers out. Hugging her diligently, she waited for her to collapse from paradise, giggling as she examined her achievement.

_Neck nervy, cheeks flushed, lips rosy, brows elevated, and eyes padlocked._

When Morrigan's frenetic squirming ended, Ophelia undertoned, "It seems I've found your most erogenous zone," then planted comforting pecks on her blushing neck.

"What..." Morrigan wearily puffed out, "…Happened?" Her frame kept negligible spasms.

"Mmm…" Ophelia presented her triumphant hand, coated with her saccharine sap, "I think you…" she brought it near Morrigan's face for close inspection. "Gushed…"

Morrigan chuckled at her hidden intention then willfully grasped the hand and encased the fingers in her mouth, one at a time. She purred pleasantly as she sucked her own essence like it was the sweetest candy in Thedas, eyes secure to wholly relish its flavor. Her eyelids flickered as she dragged her tongue for the concluding tasteful lick on her middle finger. She gawked at her flirtatiously, "Gushed?"

"I didn't expect to accomplish it this soon…" Ophelia feasted her eyes over her shaken form then grazed her hand over her slit for emphasis, "I'm assuming you liked it?"

"Yes. You were marvelous," Morrigan commended then she hauled her head and kissed her with unabashed gratitude, tongues entwining. While they were smooching, she spun their attached bodies around and restored her dominative role. Their lips created a smacking sound as Morrigan forcibly withdrew and mentioned: "Allow me to return the favor…"

[-]

"Not to offend…" The rascal simpered, her aspect evocative of Nutella's when he was discovered rifling through the apostate's unmentionables. "But I would rather you let me fall asleep."

_The nerve to dispatch her!_

Morrigan smiled mockingly, "Content to have conquered me, I see… " Her hands ran down to squeeze her lightly bronzed breasts, "Have you forgotten that an insolent like me would rather not obey?"

"_Heh_… Being the first to provide you that type of orgasm is truly empowering…" Ophelia relaxed below her, folding a forearm to laze over her forehead, "But really, Morrigan. You don't have to. I take pleasure from pleasuring you. I need nothing more." She was fixed in her tone.

"_Hmm._ How eloquent." Morrigan frolicked with a puce nipple, "But it won't suffice. I _wish_ to do this…" she bowed down and nudged it with her tongue then puckered it in her lips.

"Morrigan…"

A tender hand strained to interrupt her busy head, caressing her face instead. She neglected the disguised request and, alternatively, concentrated on exciting her breasts. She shuffled between each one, cupping her petite bosom as she pinched the buds with her lips and sometimes with her teeth.

Exploiting anything to grab her attention, Ophelia gathered her dangling hair and alluded for consideration, "I'll be exhausted come morning."

Morrigan hindered for a moment to signify her vexation, "Would you dispense with your ridiculous defenses and simply enjoy what I am offering you?" Using her tongue, she trailed through the mellow dips of Ophelia's stomach and the chattering Warden grew quiet.

The sorceress ogled her slightly defined abdominal as she tasted the salty skin, her hands remaining on her breasts.

_She was strikingly beautiful. She could land a handsome and powerful man without trouble if she preferred them...How easy life would be for her if she did… Mmm… How many flips and springs did she have to do in order to achieve that physique naturally?_

Morrigan gestured to open Ophelia's legs. The scoundrel gave her a once-over before agreeing, then Morrigan perched herself in the middle, shifting her own previously spread legs. Once satisfied, she deposited her driveling tongue in her navel and the blonde groaned lightly from the unanticipated tickle. She lowered even more, leaving pecks along the way to her endpoint.

She licked her inner thighs, noting their modest musculature, and then snickered at her evident moistness. Morrigan goaded, "And you say that you do not desire this?" Not probing for a response, she lapped at her nub like a starving kitten.

Ophelia raked through her hair and sat up but didn't moan. Her breathing merely became edgy with every contact to her sensual organ.

Morrigan proceeded with her ministration, palms stabilizing the long legs' movement. She peered at her recipient momentarily to check if she was appreciating it.

Ophelia's thin dirty blonde brows were creased as if worried and her steel globes monitored her, openmouthed.

Morrigan reset her view to her womanhood and resumed her work. Building up more compression against her crux, Ophelia's inhalation escalated into subdued moans. Then, Morrigan secretly winced at the woman speaking again…

"You don't fight like I do…" A gasp. _Yet the voice wasn't ragged._

"You… Just…" _Or maybe it was…_

"Have… _Ah–_To be… Pretty…" _Nevermind._ _Forced moans. Not convincing…_

"And…" _Too late._

"Wave your staff around_a–ahh!_" _BOGUS._

Morrigan snapped, tilting her head skywards to glower at her, "Do not fake your climax! _I swear_––!"

Ophelia beamed from ear to ear, caught in the lame act, "Okay, sorry… Don't hurt me."

Sour shame surfaced from Morrigan's sullen face. She had only been able to _really_ make her orgasm on _one_ occasion, and by accident, now that she recalled. The rest must've been imitation. She had never doubted her sexual knowledge to be short. In fact, with men, she had great understanding of their bodies and dallied with their arousal, manipulating their passions until she was bored with them – all in accordance with her mother's teachings, a reminder of who had the power. With Ophelia, on the other hand, she was ill-prepared. True enough that she discerned her own body and its sensitivity, but the rogue's was not hers. Morrigan was terribly exasperated of her amateurish approach on Sapphic sex, and the Grey Warden's tolerance for higher states of arousal wasn't any help.

She surrendered with a straightforward countenance, "Guide me." _How contradicting of her dominant nature in bed; to ask for assistance._

[-]

_You taste like sweet wine,  
>We are magnified,<br>Sweat rolls down your thigh,  
>We're making moves so blind,<br>It's what you want,  
>It's what you need,<br>And I'm just the same, baby._

[-]

Ophelia gulped at her determination to please her and suddenly regretted poking fun at her. _She genuinely sought to do this the correct way…_

With their eyes solicitously locked, she cradled her head and channeled it to her eyelevel. "Look at me…" she muttered and took an eager hand to a specific spot on her inviting region, "And hold me right here…"

Morrigan glanced down at her instructions, her eyes twinkling in thoughtful fervor.

Ophelia conducted her hand, their fingers partially intertwined, "Rub me in this way for a while…" Morrigan stared at her with so much yearning that she motivated further by her ears: "Then finger me until I come for you…"

She granted Morrigan liberty to fiddle with her most sacred instrument by recapturing her occult visage and tucking loose strands of her lengthy hair behind her ears. Their eyes never unfastened from each other as her lungs suppressed heavier breaths and her legs stiffened to repress it from trembling.

Morrigan copied her timing from before and slid her tongue across her neck, an inkling to insert her fingers.

Ophelia grunted as they entered and she buried her head in the arc of her ivory neck, scraping her nose to sniff her flowery scent. She wound an arm around the small of her back as Morrigan sped up her pace, Morrigan's tongue dampening her neck as she did.

When Ophelia's shoulders rose rapidly with every stifled breath, Morrigan heartened, "_Come…_"

The silent woman did, and her insides constricted, biting off her peak as it crashed down on her.

Morrigan sniggered a whirr of gladness by her ears, fairly proud.

With the ten seconds of bliss over, Ophelia unwrapped from her and laid back, her arms balancing as she scrutinized Morrigan who stayed kneeling. "Well done," she said plainly, a delighted look on her face.

Morrigan grimaced, "Do not mock me!" and she exclaimed, "If you had been a man–––!"

"I don't want to know." Ophelia interjected then pulled her arm to have the scowling witch topple over her on the bedroll. Cuddling her, she kissed soothing words on her forehead, "It's okay… You did good, I promise."

Morrigan trundled her eyeballs upwards. "Your consoling words are unnecessary…" She tetchily leveraged away from her clasp. "Spare me from this… Pillow talk."

Ophelia laughed lightheartedly, "So now you're ready to get out of my tent, _hmm_? Taking your leave before I kick you out?" She scanned over the disarray on her bedroll and reminded her: "Look at the mess you made. Who would exert the strenuous energy to wash all this tomorrow?"

Morrigan sighed unfathomably, "If 'tis such a heavy burden for you, I will do it." She quickly stood, snatched a cloak from the verdant floor, and draped it over her body.

"I was only joking…" Ophelia reviewed their misadventures as the fair-skinned enchantress roamed around her reasonably large tent for her clothes.

Every night since their first together, Morrigan either invited Ophelia into her tent or the shapeshifter stealthily slipped into hers. Morrigan also typically concluded their nightly quest by breaking away or banishing the poor rogue even if they temporarily fell asleep in her tent. In any case, Ophelia continually endorsed her to make the calls, blasé about whether she was being used primarily for sex or not. But tonight, she learnt that Morrigan was not a simple dominatrix. _Well, not that she could entirely be dominated, anyway…_

Glimpsing at Ophelia a final time with all her belongings already in hand, Morrigan established, "Send it to me in the morning," then she faded out of her tent like an apparition.

[**/NSFW**]

_I've got your nights (I've got your nights)  
>I've got your days (I've got your days)<br>I've got you on (I've got you on)  
>My time.<em>

[-]

Back in the reality of their journey, the day that followed surely was arduous for Ophelia, who was barely awake as she solved a flaming (literally) puzzle to save a child hostage in the village of Honnleath only to, in the end, activate an unappreciative golem.

Morrigan was left behind with a few others to complete some chores that perturbed their productivity. Washing clothes, repairing armor, preparing poultices, etcetera… As much as Ophelia wanted to take Morrigan with her as means of revenge for her drawn-out disruption of her sleep last night, there was a scheduled cycle for their chores and altering it would cause controversy (unless certain members were required for their expedition.)

Right around dusk, Ophelia, along with Wynne, Sten, and Nutella, arrived at camp with the new stone recruit, its hefty feet pounding the ground it trampled.

"We're back. Look what we've found." Ophelia announced in a projected voice, Nutella joining in with his barking, then signaled with her arms for those that peeked: "C'mon everyone, gather 'round."

Leliana was first to appear and claimed, somewhat astounded, "Oh wow, a golem. So the merchant's story is real? You can control this golem?"

The shortened golem remarked, "I can understand you, creature."

Leliana articulated an 'oh' then Ophelia clarified, "Yes and no. The control rod was broken."

Morrigan was second, arms snootily crossing as she sauntered over. "Congratulations, you found a huge chunk of rock you cannot control."

Alistair was third and blurted, "Or a dozen, since it can also probably chunk rocks." Crickets would've chirped if not for the next line…

"Another mage, I see. Charming," the golem referred to Morrigan.

Ophelia stated in regards to the mage's prior concern, "Don't fret. She agreed to follow us to serve a purpose."

Sten added, vouching for the recruit, "The golem is a remarkable construct."

"She? You jest, this golem has a gender?" Morrigan opened for debate.

All eyes turned to the couple at loggerheads over something pointless. They were strangely getting fond of their entertaining banter, even with their faces as stoic as Sten's and their hidden insignificant grudges for the witch.

"Oh, I don't know…" Ophelia shrugged, "She just sounds like a she, wouldn't you agree?"

Morrigan retorted, "No, not exactly. Though, I would agree that you just prefer for every living thing around you to be female."

"_Haha!_ Touché! Could you be jealous, perchance?"

A white-haired woman shook her head, a palm on her forehead.

"Jealous? And of a rock? You're absolutely delusional."

Zevran was last, perfect timing as always, "Ah, the air is exceptionally dense out here," he stretched his arms out for exaggeration, "I can feel the sexual tension already…" then he held his hands above his head, leering.

"These two are a pair? How profoundly odd." the golem chimed in.

Ophelia cackled to ease the pressure, "I am so glad to have a team with a great sense of humor." Everyone stared at her like she was crazy. "At any rate, since everyone's here now, let us welcome the newest party member Shale," she patted a rock-hard bicep, "And Shale, meet Leliana, Morrigan, Alistair, and Zevran."

[-]

Morrigan was seated on a stool by a crate for a table, finishing up the last poultice of the day. Only a tiny candlelight was lit inside her tent, and it was in front of her, preventing her any luck of detecting the shadow that enlarged behind her. She abruptly became startled as lean hands swiftly slithered underneath her skimpy shirt and fondled her breasts.

Ophelia breathed by her ear, ravenously predatory, "How do you like it when I sneak up on you?"

Morrigan let out a high-pitched gasp as one hand drifted downwards, her undergarments hiking up.

"I certainly hope I am not being a nuisance…" Ophelia's avid fingers dug in.

Morrigan emitted an extensive moan.

_And you're holding on to me,  
>Like an old love,<br>That you know every inch of,  
>When I feel you start to go,<br>I'll take it slow,  
>Till your body's saying more.<em>

Henceforth, Ophelia would start early and pleasure the raunchy minx with her newfound wisdom over and over again until she was spent. She truthfully despised having bags under her eyes.

[-]

_I've got your nights (I've got your nights)  
>I've got your days (I've got your days)<br>I've got you on (I've got you on)  
>My time.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"My Time" by Minus the Bear (Recommended: MitchMix Remix)

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for Basic Space<strong>

**Andy Lewis**: Oh, I see. Yes. I do that sometimes to cut out the bullcrap. xD I only write what I think is essential. Anyway, thanks for the compliments! Keep reading!

**Dalish Elf**: How's this chapter for a lemon? xD Hope you liked. I think I'll stick to the same length... For now. I'm not really content having 1k to 2k words for a chapter.

**Moral Attention**: So glad to hear all those things! THANK YOU! I'm so proud to have inspired you to write also. It's truly flattering.

**SirRealism**: Thanks for the compliments! And thank you for the correction as well. It seems I have forgotten to remove dead when I replaced body with corpse. xD

**whiskered oranges**: If you love it so much, you'll keep reviewing, yes? :3 That's great to hear you actually listened to the songs and appreciate my type of music! And that is funny isn't it? Rogues are sort of overpowered, I think. But it's so much fun to play! You can persuade people better. Steal better. Etc. And you can 'have sex' with her on the PC with a mod. That's what I did. HEHE. Yes, read more and review more!

**Keep reviewing!** Why do some of you hide from me and lurk? Drop a line or something! Really, you don't know how much you could inspire me...

* * *

><p>AN: I hope I'm not losing readers. If you've reviewed why do you stop reviewing? D: I get new reviewers and lose some, I suppose... Or everyone's been busy? By the way, I checked some of your profiles, reviewers... And I'm honored. I notice some of you are great writers. When I find extra time, I will read and review.

Anyhow, this is my first attempt at a lemon. Was it good? Great? Fantastic? Did you masturbate? It would be a real compliment if you did. XD

And who's surprised that I included Shale? She's great, isn't she?

I know I need to clean this up. I had limited time to transfer the file and scan the structure. This site foks up the italics and spaces sometimes...

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	7. Chapter 7 Bernal Heights

\

_Minor Edit: March 28th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 7 - <strong>Bernal Heights<strong>

* * *

><p><em>I never really felt the weight of family on my back,<br>I just carry myself because there is nothing I have,  
>If there were ever moments when I felt the rhythm of life,<br>It was as fleeting as I, plus I never look back._

[-]

Everyone in the group was aware that Ophelia was an efficient and charismatic leader, despite her quirkiness (which they adored, nonetheless.) She had managed to save a village from possessed zombies, utilizing all possible manpower. She had managed to save a crumbling mage institution, still preserving its structure apart from the controlling Templars. She had managed to save Connor, withholding blood magic as an option thanks to gathered aid from a dozen mages and – lest one ever forget – Morrigan. There was no doubt that when she had devised a plan – the plan would work seamlessly. Because of this, her followers had believed in and depended on her to make every move in their journey without much dispute. Well… Except for Morrigan. For the very first time, however, someone else would be joining her in dispute.

"Leliana," Ophelia called, the only one standing in the assembly.

"Yes?" Leliana responded from her seated place on a rock ledge, eager to be paired with someone. She noted Ophelia's strange pause in between her name and the following second name – _it did not occur with the others._ There was a glint in her sapphire eyes that hoped to be assigned with the blonde woman. She enjoyed their nightly talks, but a special alone time with the leading Grey Warden had long been awaited.

Then suddenly, Ophelia's glass orbs veered to the other woman unassigned, quickly shattering Leliana's dreams to pieces. "And Morrigan."

_"What?"_ the mentioned incompatible women harmonized the famous one word question in repugnance, almost jumping off their seats. They eyed each other with obvious uncertainty and hidden disgust then eyed Ophelia with even more obvious uncertainty and hidden disgust.

Ophelia clarified somewhat amusingly, "You two heard correctly. Diamond Quarter. That's your area. Leliana can take the lead, seeing that she's more apt for initiating conversations, but consider anything Morrigan has to say that's not completely cynical. Is that too hard?"

"But that's… You know we don't…" Leliana tried to complain by means of their joint bellicose antipathy. She had exerted herself too much, subduing her great indignation for the witch, and now Ophelia wanted for them to inevitably confront one another by teaming up for a task?

"You're mad!" Morrigan glared at the rogue's nonsensicalness then jutted a palm towards Zevran's direction angrily, "Why not pair me up with the elf if you must divide us into twos, giving me the lesser of the evils?"

"Ooh! Ooh! Yes, I do agree on that–––!" Zevran failed to express his joy in full by being ignored and Ophelia answering the question quite speedily.

"Yea, you're probably right that I'm mad. And, to answer your question, because I just like tormenting you both, I guess," Ophelia chuckled while the dark head did her usual yield with a roll of her eyes skywards, which eventually dropped dead on the floor.

"This will…" Leliana sighed deeply, "This will not be easy…" Leliana composed herself by working her breathing and wringing her gloved wrists. _It was a test._

"You can do it, Leliana. I have _faith_ in you," Ophelia continued, "As for me… I will be with Alistair, deliberating with Harrowmont and Bhelen associates directly."

_"Hooray!"_ Alistair pleasantly threw his fists in the air.

But his celebrating plane crashed shortly from its takeoff. "It will be a learning experience, Alistair. Not for me to carry your weight."

"Blast!" his arms fell limp, "This is about me possibly being king, isn't it?"

"Yes. You'll get the hang of it," Ophelia established, bestowing him a small smile. She clasped her hands together loudly, the signal for dismissal echoing in the Hall of Heroes, "Alright my lovely minions… Find any useful information concerning the two candidates at the sectors given. It can be anyone! A peasant, commoner, nobleman… Some basic questions you could ask could be…" she kept on talking as they stood with spiteful groans, "How do they feel about them… What do they think each one can surely contribute if put on the throne... If one had slept with the other's wife... Whatever. Squeeze them dry of information." As members began to take their own routes, she added, "Oh! And by the way, separation is not recommended unless it is absolutely necessary. Okay guys? Remember, rendezvous point is at camp around supper!"

[-]

_When I was younger oh my appetite for power was large,  
>And I would take what I need because I always took charge,<br>And now I see the people struggle from the top where I stand,  
>And I get all that I need, but there is nothing I have.<em>

[-]

Orzammar, in general, was a city of magnificent architecture: thickset buildings, intricate designs, bravura statues; highlighted with natural illumination from the flowing lava deep underneath the Frostback Mountains. Despite being home to pint-sized dwarves, its ceilings extended high, inside and outside its well-built homes.

Setting foot at Orzammar's pinnacle – the highest point, the topmost tier, the royal palace and the noble caste's residence – it would definitely render newcomers openmouthed. Its platform almost hovered over the rest of the city, looking down upon the lower neighborhoods with splendor like a painter's panorama. The aura of grandeur at the Diamond Quarters was at a wholly different level, regardless of the turmoil amongst the radical parties that house them.

That was why it would be an inexplicable mystery why two women who had never been there before rendered no sounds of surprise and, instead, plagued the splendid aura like darkspawn blood tainting an aspiring Grey Warden, as they trampled over its cobblestone floors.

Leliana and Morrigan ascended atop the structured hill without an exchange of words – and not even a single glance. Their tight countenance was subtle, a mere crook on their eyebrows and inward grits of their teeth to signify their strong discomfort.

The first house came to view, and Morrigan laggardly waited behind Leliana while she spoke with the guards for invitation.

It was an assessment – if she had the self-control not to shove the bard off a cliff and into a pit of hot lava. The female Warden had her streaks of bizarre notions, but this was the weirdest of all. _Did she expect her to be so reformed that she would dare communicate with this red headed woman and not preemptively kill her in the process?_

A door was opened for Leliana, who went ahead without a hint for a holler inside. Morrigan scoffed nasally then barged in after her, glowering at the undersized henchmen that ogled her.

[-]

_The night is everything and nothing in the city of fog,  
>I feel the cool of the breeze, I feel the coming of dawn,<br>But there is comfort in the silence of the Heights of Bernal,  
>It isn't ever enough to cure the loneliest hearts.<em>

[-]

About five or so houses, the Shaperate, and three hours of chitchatting later, the shunning duo visited the tallest edifice in the district – the Royal Palace. Save for guards and a few subordinate dwarves, the unrestricted part of the dynasty was pretty much destitute.

Morrigan marched irascibly, catching up with Leliana at the quiet hallway, "Did you mistake me for a deaf coward?" She stomped for a stop as Leliana swerved around to meet her sneering face. "I heard you back there. Did you think I would allow you to patronize me while you rambled away with that _silver-tongue_ of yours?" Her tone was not totally angry but it was condescending in a nonchalant manner.

Leliana countered fearlessly, "I don't know what you mean. And don't make fun of me when I'm perfectly doing all the work." She held her bearing firmly, assertive enough not to be a pushover but stifling enough not be aggressive.

"_Ha!_" Morrigan smirked mockingly, "As if you did not wish to do this on your own?" Her arm and hands waved for a transitory whimsical shrug then folded for her validation, "Don't be twofaced and show a bit of gratitude – I had gladly stepped out of your way throughout this ridiculous assignment."

Leliana found no humor in her words and said seriously, "I owe you no thanks. You're the one that owes something. After the things you've said about me, why should I bother?"

"_My, my, Leliana_..." Morrigan protracted her deriding pronunciation of the syllables. "Grudges, _hmm_? How many times have you relished in the dream of pulling your bow string and firing a sharpened arrow through my head, I wonder? Did you revel in the delightful sound of it impaling my skull, splitting my brain into bloody bits and pieces?" She recited her envisioned death like a tale worth writing by the bard.

"I am not _that _immoral, though I am completely capable of that crime," Leliana's gaze deterred for a moment then she admitted, "You are... Unpleasant, Morrigan, but you are not worth the effort." She finally gave in under exasperation, "I won't argue anymore. We should've parted ways early on. I'm finishing this by myself."

"_Haha~_ A most excellent choice. Do tarry longer, if you can," Morrigan gestured a careless shooing motion with one hand, "Go on then."

Leliana pivoted around and spat under her breath, "_Bitch_..."

The sorceress happily watched the red head as she stormed away, boots clicking on the smoothly tiled floor. Once the other woman turned on a corner, she took her leave in the opposite path, languidly studying the ornate walls while she walked.

_She was not harmful in her disapproval… And prevented the use of direct insults. She couldn't be blamed for the outcome, could she? Whatever. She was not going to be portrayed as the slightest fool to anyone, not even to the lowest dwarf peasant she may never come across again._

Morrigan's musings abruptly ceased as she spotted an elegant jar. Her shapely thin eyebrows rose as she tested its authenticity with a light touch. _If anything, dwarves mastered constructing objects with sophistication._

Then tremors unexpectedly rumbled beneath the surface.

The vase would've littered the floor as shards if Morrigan was jittery, but she wasn't. For a couple of seconds, she stayed put and observed either side of the coolly lit gallery for a clue.

Then Leliana's high-pitched yelp reverberated.

She hastily followed its origin, running with her staff readily gripped. She retraced her old steps and entered the hallway where they disconnected, the continuous snap of a bowstring propelling arrows discernable to her ears.

A concluding turn later, she discovered Leliana being cornered to a wall by three armed dwarves. When they lifted their hammers to pound the outnumbered woman, Morrigan extended her staff outwards and unleashed a cone of blizzard. Her magic speedily engulfed the men in frozen ice, then Leliana hurried out of her range.

Morrigan's staff consecutively burst out a scorching stream of fire then an excruciating stream of lightning, melting the ice before she electrocuted them.

She laughed while they wailed, bumping into each other as they struggled with the sparking jolts. If this was the dwarven magic resistance that she studied of, they served it no justice.

They eventually stumbled and broke down like cockroaches to a bug spray, rolling unto their backs while they grunted and kicked.

A palace guard strode into the scene, perplexed by the happenstance. "Tunneling thieves?" he queried throatily.

Morrigan and Leliana gawked at him; they were contiguous to one another at an inch, the closest they've ever been in physical proximity.

Detecting the labor they spared him, he grumbled, "Thank you... Err-Grey Warden helpers."

"You're welcome," Leliana replied to escape awkwardness.

"I'll go get the other guards and arrest these men. Could you...?"

They nodded immediately and he bowed as a courtesy then departed.

Morrigan approached the rubble cautiously and inspected the large hole on the ground. Three other dwarves surrounded it, sobbing about the arrows that pierced their limbs. With her cat eyes glued to the gaping wreckage, she decided to blurt out of its hilarity, "These dumb muggers emerged from underground?" her voice was half-curious, half-gibing, "Did they not contemplate on the noise 'twould make beforehand?" she shook her head for indignity on the failed heist, "This tops the list of stupidities that boggle the mind, by far..."

Leliana slowly appeared from behind and spoke sincerely, "I... Thought you've left."

Morrigan's countenance was indifferent when she regarded her, "I sensed the vibrations and examined it, does it require further explanation?"

"Well... I appreciate... You coming back. It could've been worse," Leliana fiddled with her fingers, coy in gratifying the witch.

Morrigan refused to acknowledge her and relied on a red herring, "A rare coincidence that buried fools erupt from the ground whence I leave."

Leliana giggled a little, "It is a bit amusing..." then she reassured, "You should know... If I said something offending a while ago, it wasn't intentional..." She pondered; _Ophelia was right with Morrigan, to offer patience. Everyone must be, if she was to change.  
><em>  
>Morrigan sighed then declared in an apathetic tune, "I have already built a bridge and gotten over it minutes ago, if you must know."<p>

Leliana's lips curved up by a smidgen but Morrigan didn't see it. "Anyway, I've thought it through, and I think what I've gathered should be sufficient. I should be leaving with you once they return..."

Morrigan artfully did a sideways once-over, "Suit yourself..."

[-]

_And when the rising of the sun wakes edges of clouds,  
>I see the shadows of towers, I see the pain of the dark,<br>And for a moment I could understand the joy of the light,  
>But such a thought is naive so then I come back to life.<em>

[-]

They gradually made it back to the crux of all entrances and exits – the Orzammar Commons. It was a lot more crowded than the rest of the city, with its numerous shops and pubs... And rabbit-pig creatures that were strenuously being chased around. Although less tense, Morrigan and Leliana remained distant and silent on their trip, until they made it to the loud atmosphere – wherein Leliana contributed to the clamor by jabbering to herself. Morrigan paid no attention, excluding the next topic...

"Ophelia's an amazing woman isn't she?" Leliana couldn't keep her mouth shut and spilled her nosiness. "Brilliant, confident, athletic, witty, funny, beautiful..." She was conscious of the circumstance that Morrigan was closer to their leader than everybody else in the team. And so, she took advantage of the opportunity. "But even though she knows these things, she managed to keep her modesty... I can't find a reason to hate her. Anyone can easily admire her. She's extremely likeable."

"Will you insist on this petty babbling to yourself?" Morrigan whined, "_Ugh…_ 'Tis almost beyond endurance. I might just resort to crawling into a bush and _dying_, as Alistair once prayed the absurdity."

"I think... I'm starting to see what Ophelia saw in you. Of course, the cunning woman that she is, I never realized until recently that under that thick barbed skin of yours – you really do have a heart," Leliana attempted to catch her unshakable stare while they trudged forward.

"Listen and understand this fully..." Morrigan granted her consideration, "I helped you because if anything were to happen to you, the first to blame would be me."

"But the fact remains that you cared enough to save me. You could manipulate them with a lie: tell them I went astray and got myself kidnapped or killed. Yet you didn't. It would've been the perfect opportunity to," Leliana justified.

If Morrigan's eyeballs were screwed on, they would come off from their constant rotating from the constant annoyance. "Ophelia cannot be fooled _that _effortlessly. She would search for evidence and find suspects till hell freezes over, this I am certain."

"You mean... You simply fear our leader and punishment, therefore you save me?"

She moaned fretfully then claimed, "Yes! 'Tis precisely what I meant by blame. Unsurprising that 'twas not clear enough for you at the start."

Leliana gave up, "Oh? Okay. If you say so..." But she knew she was feasibly accurate with her assumption.

"I am understood at last?" Morrigan exhaled an unfathomable breath, "_Oh_, I am truly relieved."

Morrigan was spared from the wrath of Leliana's bothersome vocal chords… But only for a minute or two.

"I hope you don't mind..." Leliana reinitiated.

"No. I do mind," the dark head contested in monotone.

"You must be fascinated by her as much as I am! I think you don't mind!" Leliana persuaded quite enthusiastically.

"Even if I was, I have no need to share it verbally."

Leliana persisted with her subject nonetheless, "I've always wanted to learn more about her. Her family... Her childhood... Her lovers in the past... I'm sure you know more than I, and I wish to know."

"If you are desperately curious, why not beleaguer her yourself?" Morrigan suggested irritably.

"She's busy... And avoids personal topics with me."

"I am beginning to regret doing this entire thing..."

Leliana probed mercilessly, "C'mon tell me something interesting! Please? Just one!"

Morrigan threw her head back momentarily, "_Ugghh..._ You are sounding more like that pestering mutt of hers..."

"It can be anything. Oh! What's her last name? You must know that."

Morrigan's rosy lips instantly sealed in a tight line, a pang of shame for little interest in the rogue's personal life stabbing at her sentiment. _What did she truthfully know about the blonde rogue? They never discussed her in their heartfelt conversations. The woman was a mystery._ "I... Do not know."

Leliana identified her uneasiness, "Uhm... That's fine... Anything you know then."

_Anything she knew?_

_Besides what everyone else knew?_

_It was difficult…_

_There was only one thing…_

"She's skillful beneath the sheets, for someone without a phallus. She stimulates me to the point that I spurt out some type of liquid. It feels _in-cre~dib-ly_ good."

Leliana's mouth flew open, "Ohh... That's-err..." She gulped a huge lump in her throat, "Thank you, that'll do."

"And there is still hope for this day, after all…"

"Morrigan! Leliana! Come here!" Zevran's distinguishable shout toppled the boisterous town square.

Morrigan and Leliana skewed their heads to find him at the other side of a giant focal statue, pointing to a shop that also piqued their interest. When he vanished inside the store, they inquisitively progressed toward it.

"A souvenir shop?" Leliana quizzed while they arrived.

"No-no. There are weapons, as well," Zevran corrected. "There is a sexy dagger here, actually… A fine blade I particularly desire – The Rose's Thorn… Oh… But alas, I am coinless…"

"Oh, thank the maker…" Wynne joined their circle with a comforted mien, "I am no longer alone with Zevran."

"What? I have done nothing wrong."

"From Wynne's evident detachment from you prior to this conversation, I think you have," Leliana chuckled.

And here, the witch twitched for separation. Uninterested for additional blather, Morrigan proceeded onwards to investigate the musky boutique. They didn't bother her as she diverged from the group soundlessly. It was typical.

She briefly scrutinized each trinket, crystal, and jewelry displayed as she passed, hung dim lanterns warming her to a solace. A couple of aisles later, she recognized a familiar mirror on a display rack. It had a golden frame and a nicely polished glass. She grasped it and admired its posterior: a deer and some sparrows frolicking in a charming scene. Smiling to herself, she then tilted it to reflect her visage. She meditated on her physical beauty – she accepted that she was, in fact, exotic and beautiful and was arrogant about it. Next, she dwelled upon her very entity – and if she was satisfied with what she saw. And for a split-second, she had a rush of déjà vu.

[-]

_When I was younger oh my appetite for power was large,  
>And I would take what I need because I always took charge,<br>And now I see the people struggle from the top where I stand,  
>And I get all that I need, but there is nothing I have.<em>

[-]

"This day was unforgiving... Wynne was cruel! So very cruel! And she won't let me lay my head on her bosom!" Zevran cried in exaggeration as Ophelia arrived with Alistair, after a long wait at camp.

She patted him on the shoulder and scowled in sympathy, "Aww… You poor deprived thing. That's unfortunate," she consoled, "But you'll live," then she moved for their crowded bonfire with Alistair and Zevran trailing her.

Nutella barked to welcome her as she halted in front of them, Alistair and Zevran settling in their own seats with the rest.

"It's here. Good. If it made me dally for hours on end doing nothing, I thought it might as well have left me as a statue," Shale scoffed, disappointed.

"Yes… Deal with this, once and for all," Sten impatiently requested from the shadows.

Sten, Shale, and Nutella were stationed at camp since morning, when their jobs were delegated. They were merely instructed to practice together.

"Sorry Shale and Sten. Politics, y'know... Boring."

"Boring is an understatement," Alistair pouted, his grimace rendering muted snickers.

The senior enchanter was first to stand and protest wearily, "Andraste's grace… I beg of you... Please do not pair me up with Zevran again. All he ever talks about is my bosom…"

Ophelia figured that Wynne and Zevran wouldn't have trouble getting along and would balance each other out in terms of political knowledge. Thusly, she had designated them to handle the busiest division in Orzammar – the Orzammar Commons.

"Honestly?" she questioned rhetorically then cackled, slapping a knee from sheer joy, "Oh Zevran... Harassing Wynne... Wonderful."

"You encourage this?" Wynne demurred with a shudder.

"N-no." Ophelia forcibly contained herself, "Of course not," her tone became stern then she glowered at the tan man, "Zevran… Wynne's bosom is off-limits..." But immaturity was etched in her character and she restrained herself from cracking up, her obsidian lips negligibly quivering, "Discipline your libido..."

Zevran sniveled in defeat with his head down, "Yes... I will do my best."

Wynne nodded, satisfied for the moment, then sat calmly on her stool.

Ophelia rearranged her pose, "Any other grievances that needs to be brought up?" she prodded, her platinum irises apparent with intent to incite Morrigan or Leliana to rat the other one out.

The apostate and Orlesian traded a speechless gaze, communicating telepathically.

_To reveal the tiny mishap at the Royal Palace and reveal what occurred before it?_

_Naaah._

They shook their heads in unison for a 'no.'

"Okay then..." Ophelia crossed her arms to prepare for business, "Let's put everyone's notes together, discuss them, and vote. Complete this before my stomach grumbles..."

Subsequent to a dozen yawns from every member and a hundred grunts of displeasure from Alistair, they managed to write a decent summary and deliberate with it. The most active debaters were Ophelia and Wynne, but Ophelia commanded Alistair to speak up. Leliana would sneak in her minor inputs, Morrigan would enlighten with memorized facts, and Zevran would either comment educated guesses or assassination jests (in which case, he was hushed.)

"So, to sum it all up…" Ophelia scratched at her temple then read what she wrote, "Overall, Bhelen is radical and progressive. He believes the ends justify the means, wants to encourage trade, and respects and employs casteless dwarves," she tapped on her notes for a pause, "And Harrowmont is a traditionalist. He believes in honorable conduct, leans more toward isolationism, and – who would've guessed – he's a strong proponent of tradition." She concluded, "Is there anything incorrect about these details?"

No one uttered a word.

"Good. Now we vote…" she scanned her temporary committee then began, "Alistair?"

Alistair braced himself together with a sharp inhale and balling of his fists, "Err… Everything Bhelen promised seems like a good thing. But he sounds corrupt…"

Ophelia interrupted, "Yes, Alistair. We're done with evaluations. You can calm down."

"Oh." He tittered, slouching, "Uhm… Harrowmont."

"Wynne?"

"Harrowmont."

"Zevran?"

"Harrowmont…?"

"Morrigan? If you choose Harrowmont, we choose him."

Morrigan flatly stated the contrary, "Bhelen."

Ophelia chortled faintly. She had anticipated that much. "Choosing him because you like to disagree, don't you?"

"If you are certain that Harrowmont will win the voting, then why even ask me?" Morrigan retorted.

"I like to hear your voice…"

Shale mentioned in a low voice, "This pair is reminiscent of the married villagers that regularly whirled kitchen objects at each other. Oh... It was a fascinating spectacle... One I could fancy."

"Ah, so you have perceived what I have perceived... Morrigan does require more bedding," Zevran whispered in reply.

Morrigan overheard and glared at him, "What's that Zevran? Something you wish to share?"

"Alright, alright," Ophelia swiftly regained control, desisting Morrigan from excoriating Zevran with her eyes, "I apologize for getting us in a tangent…" she rubbed at her chin, "Leliana?"

"It feels odd to say it now, but… Harrowmont."

"Fine. Harrowmont it is."

[-]

_I left my home, my love, and friends,  
>Now pride and loneliness remain,<br>The tower I built is meaningless,  
>I yearn for touch and happiness.<em>

[-]

The prolonged political burden of determining who the Grey Wardens should assist in placement on the throne was ultimately completed. They ate dinner, washed up, and promptly resided in their bedrolls, the difficulty of the day's task seemingly tougher than what they had usually involved themselves in.

Morrigan sauntered towards Ophelia's tent. The scoundrel was sitting on a medium-sized log, focused on untying a knot on her boots when she disrupted, "I have come to notice..."

Ophelia was bent over, struggling in removing her boots as she peeked sweetly, an eyebrow slanting, "_Eehh?_" She always had an air of thin but charming peculiarity meshed with a unique swagger of austerity.

Morrigan gracefully plopped down next to her and continued, "That you haven't exposed much about yourself as I have, from the times we've chattered."

"Of pointless information?"

"Yes."

"Ohhh," Ophelia drew her socked foot out and gave the dark head her unbridled devotion, "You finally wish to be indulged in return?"

"No," Morrigan explained, her expression edgy but fundamentally compassionate, "Well... 'Twould only be fair if I held the same amount of information you hold of me, is it not?"

"Mmkay. I get it. For plotting purposes..." Ophelia shifted in her cinder chiffon tunic as if to relax for the impending interview, "Go on. Ask me anything."

"To begin with... Your mother... You mentioned you loved her and implied that was all I needed to know," Morrigan pried tentatively, "My question is... Where is this mother of yours?"

"She's far away." Ophelia's cool silver eyes were stiffly forthright.

Morrigan didn't surrender. "'Far away' where?"

"Highever."

"Highever? Is that in the north?" She could discern that the cunning woman was anxious because of her fast and direct answers.

"Yes. Next question?"

"Who else constitutes your family?"

"I have a father, a mother, an older brother, a nephew... Next question."

She could no longer bear the scanty responses, "You seem uptight with my questions, mind if I asked why?"

Ophelia played her habitual witty façade, "Haha. I'm just terrified to be interrogated by a sagacious temptress, nothing more."

"I see. I should do this more often," Morrigan sharply intoned, though for comedy.

"Next question."

"_Mmm..._" she reflected for a matter she couldn't shun straightforwardly, an index on her lips, "That girl from the Fade who nearly brought you to tears... Who was that girl?"

"Oh... Her?" Ophelia itched an arm, "She's my best friend and mentor. She taught me everything I know."

"Oh?" _But she gave no name..._

"Funny story how we met, actually..."

"Do tell."

"She... Was trying to steal something from my house."

"Oh yes. As I recall, you are a wealthy noblewoman, are you not?" Morrigan referred to their dialogue in Flemeth's hut, when the Warden first awoke from her injuries.

"Yes. It's no matter now... Do you want to hear the story?" Ophelia offered generously.

Morrigan batted her eyelashes in suppressed eureka. _She was going to tell a story?_ She covertly wet her lips, pressing them inside her mouth, then smiled, "Yes." She tucked a hand securely in the crook of her neck and jaw, ardent to heed her story.

Ophelia shared her smile then adjusted her posture. She reclined her head backwards and stargazed, "I was young, barely five years old. It started this one week at our estate, where suddenly our primary chef complained to my mother about stocks of food missing. It wasn't rats or any other vermin, since it was clean. To try and alleviate the problem, my mother ordered the guards to be on the lookout for thieves. Of course, guards are good but they get distracted," she glimpsed at Morrigan fleetingly and continually to check her attentiveness, the light of their puny camp fire glowing against her face in a way that accentuated her vulnerable aspect. "Like I assumed, a few days passed and no thieves were caught. That's when my detective skills first came to play and thought, 'I could wait for them exactly where the food is.' One night, I did just that and hid inside one of the crates in the pantry room for an hour or so around midnight." She regarded Morrigan humorously and ascertained, "Yes I snuck out of bed… At any rate, sure enough, as painstakingly boring it was – I even fell asleep – I heard creaking from a hidden doorway. I peered between the narrow splits of the crate then found the culprits to be three preteens, thirteen to fifteen year old kids... Unafraid, I brashly punched the lid off of my crate and made a shocking horrific sound, like the merge of a ghost and a bear. They recoiled with a squeal and tripped on their feet," she gesticulated with proper hand and arm movements for better visualization then provided a mild cliffhanger, "Except for one…"

Morrigan developed a conjecture, "'Tis the girl?"

"Yes. You would think that after I busted them she would be fearful... But no. Not her." At this part, Ophelia passionately got into her storytelling, making more comprehensible gestures and speaking in a more affected tone. "She glared at me and had the audacity to insult me saying, 'That's the best you can do, kid? You sound like a squirming pig being butchered.'"

She began to chuckle in her anecdote, "I laughed then threatened as she advanced on me, 'You know who would sound like a squirming pig begging for freedom once I yell for guards? You will.' And she stopped dead on her tracks. She stared at me intently for a few seconds, and then lunged after me. Too bad for her, I was quick and evaded her. I opened my mouth wide to demonstrate a scream but she made shushing noises and I didn't. I grinned at her victoriously as she pleaded, 'Okay, what do you want, kid? If we give it to you, will you let us leave peacefully?' The good child that I was, I simply asked, 'Can we be friends?'"

Her eyes merrily locked with Morrigan's, "I was desperate for fun and a different perspective from noble life. Her group was perfect," then they were lost in the glamorous stars once again, "She looked at me with disgust and said, 'What? No. Get lost kid.' So I was seriously going to yell for the second time, but then she said okay. I asked for something valuable from her as an incentive so I don't get cheated – 'cause I was smart. She was about to hand me a necklace when she attempted to strangle me again. She grabbed me by the wrists, so I stomped on her foot. When she tried to cover my mouth, I bit her. And after that... I got a compliment of how canny I was... "

She slowed down and her fathomable acting ended, reverting to her previous and less keen countenance, "Then we became best friends… I hung out with her by convincing my mother to let her keep watch of me. First, just in the house, and she would teach me simple roguish things. Later though, it evolved to adventures outside. She took me out for hysterical escapades with her friends, and I happily obliged with whatever she had to teach." She gulped for a finish, "Good times..."

"That was… An interesting story. Thank you for sharing." Morrigan's eyelids fluttered as she stared on the ground transiently. She sighed then delved a hand in her skirt's pocket, rifling for an unadorned rosewood ring. Scooping it out, she declared, "I have something for you."

Ophelia leaned in, absorbed by the looming present, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have a gift for you," Morrigan snatched her smoothly tanned hand and placed the ring on her palm, "'Tis a ring. Now, before you get any foolish notions, let me explain…" She jabbered, "Flemeth once gave me the ring because it allowed her to find me no matter where I went, in case I was ever captured by hunters. I disabled its power as soon as we left the Wilds. Recently, however, I thought to change it. Now, I will be able to find whoever wears it instead."

Ophelia gasped in astonishment, "_AH-HA!_ And the plot thickens!"

Morrigan almost snarled, unappreciative of her witticism, "'Tis not to track you! I believe you are too important to risk. If you were to get captured, however, it would be far easier to find you with this."

Ophelia retrieved her hand and scrutinized the band, "Oh? Does it do anything else?"

Morrigan appeased her in her explanatory voice, "Flemeth used to say 'twas a link between us, one that I presumed worked both ways. I never tested it, but I doubt she would have lied over such a thing. So it would mean I am linked to you as much as you to I."

The blonde investigated, "So I could find you, if need be?"

"I… Do not know," Morrigan hesitated, the idea disconcerting her by a tad, "As I said, I never tested it. Perhaps."

"So you're giving it to me purely out of practicality?"

She wanted to discourage whatever maudlin hopes the rogue had and amended, "I… Have no desire to see us part company so soon. Not unless we wish to, that is. Do not read more into it than is there. You have supplied me with equipment, certainly this is not so very different, is it?"

Ophelia bobbed her head in understanding, a little saddened by the mage's compulsory hollowness, "Well… Thank you for the gift."

"You… Are welcome. Perhaps it will be useful some day."

"Uhm… I have something for you too…" Not to be outshined in gift-giving, Ophelia twisted her upper body and seized a wrapped box behind her. She carefully raised it from the grassy floor then propped it on Morrigan's lap, "Open it."

Morrigan gaped at her for a second then undid the ropey cords of the present. She removed the brown paper wrapper and uncovered a red carton. Her fingers traced the opening edge of the box, then she stuck a thumb in and unfastened it open.

Her bright golden globes sparkled at what they have discovered, her mouth freeing a breath of stupefaction. She clutched the golden mirror up and marveled at the accessory – the same exact mirror she found at the store, and just as identical as the mirror she once cherished to have as a child.

An infant tear departed from its tear ducts but failed to run down a flushed cheek.

Morrigan banned herself from crying. She would not cry. Especially not for a silly bauble.

_But it was too much emotion for her for one single day…_

And a caring finger wiped the tear before it plummeted.

[-]

_I carve my path in stone,  
>My pride is all I need,<br>My demons stay inside me,  
>My rage, my lust, my greed.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Bernal Heights" by Jhameel

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for My Time<strong>

**Andy Lewis**: Haha. I know right? My first ever full smut. Thanks for reviewing!

**Dalish Elf**: I played ME2. Sadly, I didn't fall in love with it. D: Morrigan's so much better than Miranda though, IMHO. Anyway, that would explain why some people are probably not reading or reviewing... Thanks for reviewing!

**Gemini1179**: Yea... Morrigan's always going to be like that. Ophelia likes her that way, anyway. ;D Thanks for coming back and reviewing! Glad I didn't lose you. :)

**Moral Attention**: Haha. They're both playing hard to get. Ophelia's making all the moves but she's pretending not to be so into her. XD Thanks for reviewing!

**EmberOfSoul1323**: Wow. You have no idea how glad I am to hear that... That means there's a possibility someone else who's never played it would be equally entertained. Thank you for this compliment and all the compliments, really. You've inspired me to write even better. And I forgive you, after all these lovely compliments! And also, I don't care if it's just a one liner saying... "Great chapter." I would really appreciate that than nothing at all.

**whiskered oranges**: Yes, most RPG games are best played on a PC for more customization. LOL about you reading the last chapter while doing homework and other things. That's great multi-tasking. XD And yes, it could be confusing since they're two women and that means I have to use her and she a lot. I love the song too. One of my favorites. Thanks for reviewing.

**Rin Ryosuke**: I added some Shale banter here, just for you! Shale and Sten do seem like they're about to fall in love in one of their conversations. It might be on YouTube, I'm not sure... But it's really interesting. LOL. Thanks for reviewing again and glad I didn't lose you!

**Unnamed Anon**: Thank you for reviewing! Did you make it to this chapter? I can't tell since you stopped at chapter 3. XD Glad you like how I portray the main characters.

**The rest of you... Drop a line, will you?**

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><p>AN: I constantly try to find new ways to write a sentence and use new words. That's primarily why this took a while. I am not content in using the same words over and over again. I have to have a thesaurus while I write. Idioms and other figurative things too, I constantly try to use more of those.

I just recently found out that I drew Morrigan's ring wrong on one of my pieces. It's rosewood and not golden. Thank you Dragon Age Wikia. I took a lot of information from there for this chapter.

I rushed in posting this again. I'll correct it either tomorrow night or Monday. I'm getting a bit busier and busier... Sorry for the wait.

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	8. Chapter 8 Monster of the Sky

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_Minor Edit: March 29th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 8 - <strong>Monster of the Sky<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Content Fool<strong>

Ophelia slowly withdrew her finger from under Morrigan's teary eye and stared at her caringly, "Reconsidering that childish fantasy?"

"_I find myself at times wondering what might have become of the girl with the beautiful golden mirror. But such fantasies have no place amidst reality."_

"No..." Morrigan murmured, her gaze still on the golden mirror. She then regarded Ophelia firmly in a late effort to convince her. Her thin brows furrowed, desperately stifling the softness that dawdled within her golden irises.

_Damn the lulling warmth of the flames that neighbored them. Damn the lingering warmth of the finger that heartened her. And, most of all, damn the enticing warmth of that woman's vibrant diamonds which so invitingly captivated her._

Ophelia matched her steady resolve but stated without inveracity, "It's not too late."

A futile breath escaped Morrigan before she spoke in undertone, "'Tis a fool's dream..."

"A content fool."

Morrigan virtually gasped from the simple yet ingenuous comeback, clutching the mirror tightly against her lap. "You…" biting her lower lip once, she denied it anyway, "Cannot gauge the merit of such idle fantasies." Her head gradually dropped doubtingly, eyelids flickering irrepressibly.

_Fuuuuck. She would not bawl her eyes out over such a thing…_

"Can't I? I once had a life like that..." Ophelia cupped her visibly flushed face and consoled her with a sincere whisper, "You remind me of her." She smiled preciously and noted, "She had the same dream. I once hoped I could give her that luxury... Younger that I was to her..."

Morrigan's grimace stiffened and her gritted lips quivered marginally, the blonde's soothing words triggering emotions she didn't know she held inside…

_How many times did she run away from the Wilds to roam the world of man? How many envious feelings did she bottle up from the sight of rich and happy nobles? How many painful reprimands from Flemeth did she endure the minute she returned home? Could she have really hated her past and current life this much?_

Thankfully, when Ophelia's tender lips pressed against hers and their kiss deepened, Morrigan couldn't focus or worry about crying anymore.

[-]

_Love is worth pursuing,  
>Through the burning wreck of a demolished world,<br>Over mountain kings on thrones of rock,  
>Through mansions in the clouds,<br>On a starbeam I have ridden,  
>Though my love may be forbidden,<br>A breath of twilight blows,  
>How the longing grows.<em>

[-]

**Somehow Unsurprising**

The gloomy morning was nonetheless pleasant for campers who favored its peaceful atmosphere – just as it was for Morrigan. After she finished her preparations for the morning, she paced for Ophelia's tent for a routine checkup. Separating her tent's covers, she darted inside bereft of a warning.

Ophelia acknowledged the foreseen entrance with a glimpse then continued to quietly button her charcoal long sleeves, the first layer of her outfit. She was standing straight, her greaves and boots already modeled.

Morrigan watched her intently by the entryway, her arms crossing in interest. The neat leader strangely took longer than she did. _It was because of her meticulous habits_, she pondered. When Ophelia finished with her shirt, she grabbed an object from a tiny table.

Morrigan immediately noticed the rosewood ring she gave her – but it was held up by a black string in order to form a necklace. "Why not wear it on your finger?" she queried before Ophelia could put it around her neck.

Ophelia deftly tied it in a small knot without having to look at it and said, "It's safer this way. I can't mistakenly punch too hard and break it."

A dark brow slanted. "You punch? I have never seen you punch," Morrigan identified.

"Heh. You enjoy watching me, don't you?" Ophelia smirked amusingly, to which Morrigan rolled her eyes. Adjusting her collar to comfortably accompany the necklace, she explained, "In any case, this is safer. If my hand were to get chopped off, I may lose it. If it were around my neck, under my armor, I would need to be decapitated first before I lose it."

"What a ludicrous argument," Morrigan gestured an unconcerned hand, "No matter. Wear it however you please. I care not."

"And it's closer to my heart," Ophelia added, a passionate hand on her chest, and she winked with glee.

"Somehow, that is unsurprising..."

[-]

**Doubted Level**

Wynne had addressed her moralistic codes to Ophelia countless times in their journey. More often than not, they shared the same beliefs and opinions. If the occasion to butt heads presented itself, the rogue had an open mind, easy to absorb, and the senior enchanter was quite lenient, easy to absolve.

The elderly woman was particularly waiting for her turn to be privately spoken to, patiently sitting on her favorite stool. When Ophelia strode to her, Wynne began, "You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?"

Ophelia snatched her own stool and propped her butt on it, "You mean… Morrigan and I?"

Wynne explicated in that wise and soft-spoken voice of hers, "Well, she's hardly discreet. Though I cannot catch her sneaking inside your tent at night, I can decipher the noises..."

"Oh…" Ophelia tucked loose stresses of hair behind her ears, a brief sign of the situation's awkwardness. "Haha. I apologize. I'll try to muffle all of her moans next time. There's this thing that drives her insanely wild and she cannot ignore it…"

Wynne huffed from revolted surprise, "Oh, sweet Maker! Is a little decorum too much to ask?" She inhaled and exhaled severely with her eyes shut for ten seconds then affirmed, "Moving along now…" She redirected her kindhearted yet stern stare towards Ophelia, "I've noticed your blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going. She is a cunning woman, a maleficar. She will use you for her own ends."

"Maybe. The only way to know for sure is to move forward and accept that challenge," Ophelia countered.

"I am telling you what I see, and what my instincts tell me. And even if the feelings you share are genuine, this affair may not be the best thing for either of you," Wynne attempted to dispute, "You are a Grey Warden. You have responsibilities which supercede your personal desires."

"Wynne… I can guarantee you that I can distinguish the moment when I begin to slack." Ophelia coerced with subtle hand movements and an unyielding tone, "There is a time and place for everything. I know my limitations."

Wynne unconfined a coherent riposte, "Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?"

Ophelia sighed but didn't surrender, "First of all, I doubt Morrigan and I are at that level... Second, I won't let our situation come to something as calamitous as... What you speak of."

"Nothing is certain, not in these times. You cannot take anything for granted, I wanted you to be aware of this."

She nodded and reassured, "Morrigan and I can handle whatever comes our way."

"If you insist." Wynne's chin tilted pretentiously for a second, "I have given my advice. Do with it what you will."

[-]

_Love is intoxicating,  
>Like the blue depths of the water,<br>When the wind speaks,  
>And echoes cross the waves,<br>I have sailed rivers of time,  
>To find you and make you mine,<br>A breath of twilight blows,  
>How the feeling inside me grows.<em>

[-]

**Repugnant Smell**

"_OPHELIA!"_

Morrigan's blaring call resonated in Ophelia's most profound perceptions, instantly veering her head and body to the witch's rescue. "Morrigan!" she sprinted, dodging the darkspawn pawns that strained to persecute her.

The dark head was squirming upside down, her leg gripped by a grimy tentacle. The repulsive and colossal broodmother swung her uncontrollably in order to incapacitate her under extreme nausea. "Help…" Morrigan could only yelp weakly, eyes scattered on the bloody and fleshy walls.

Ophelia obtained a sudden burst of adrenaline, centering her objective on emasculating the hideous monster by any means. She dexterously planted one foot on each aggressively swaying tentacle, advancing faster to her goal. The broodmother swirled Morrigan to its front, its ugly bald head making a horrendous scrunching face for a frightening sign of regurgitation. Instantaneously, Ophelia vigorously leapt high with a loud cry, her arms arched behind her to deliver a devastating blow. She brutally thrust her twin daggers downwards, impaling the broodmother on its neck before she twisted the sharpened blades and made a scissoring motion – amputating its head off. The darkspawn breeding machine broke down by convulsing its tentacles and short arms for minor seconds, its putrid blood spewing out of its neck in streams.

Morrigan was tossed aside with a light thud against Shale's careful catch when Ophelia skipped down the distasteful valley of wobbly breasts below her and distanced herself from the dead behemoth. Ophelia glanced at Morrigan, Shale, and Oghren, a freshly recruited dwarf, to ascertain their safety then she scrutinized the atrocious display of their hastened victory.

Besides the darkspawn corpses, the fiend's inert tentacles spread across the meaty ground, its head trundled a messy trail of foul crimson sludge, and its fat body bathed in its own carnage; the massive gore surrounding her staining her boots completely.

Ophelia sealed her eyes in silence, catching her breath and replaying the events that occurred minutes ago.

_She couldn't comprehend the startling amount of anxiety that shot through her veins as she heard her despairing scream. The last time she had saved her life, she was entirely in control of the situation since the opponent was only a bandit. With this, on the other hand… The latest and nearest comparison would be when she discovered her father on a puddle of his own blood. The split-second she opened the door and saw him – a ton of bricks were bombarded at her. Yet… This was still different... It had barely been half a year since she knew of her – but to hold a sentiment that was almost as intense…_

"Something troubling you, my Grey Warden?" Morrigan approached from behind her and forcefully interrupted her introspection, her slender arms snaking around her armored torso and her chin leaning against her exposed neck.

Ophelia was pulled a tad while she declared seriously, "The smell is repugnant."

Morrigan snickered lusciously and teased, "'Twould be worth your deep contemplation..."

[-]

_I am the rider of the wind,  
>The stirrer of the storm,<br>A hurricane of rage,  
>In human form,<br>And now the hour has arrived,  
>And this vow I renew,<br>I am a monster of the sky,  
>And I'm coming after you.<em>

[-]

**Binge Drinking**

Ophelia eyed Morrigan's attractive back discreetly while the newly crowned King Harrowmont provided his parting acknowledgments for their exceptional assistance. She was so glad that the witch stuck with wearing skimpy shirts despite her exploitive behavior concerning it.

"_Have you no desire to discover this Anvil's potential? It is a marvel, a tool of creation. You can rival the Maker himself with this instrument. If you destroy the Anvil, I swear you will regret it."_

Morrigan's bitter words rewound inside Ophelia's head while she pretended to listen to Harrowmont's complimentary speech. On their way out of the Deep Roads, she had simply put a finger to her lips and articulated a long '_shhhhhh_' sound (that was more annoying than comforting) every time the sorceress whined. Since the moment she finally quit her complaining, Ophelia had not heard a single word from her again.

_The sulking mage wanted condolence and she would give it to her…_

In perfect time with Harrowmont turning his back, Ophelia cunningly draped a hand underneath Morrigan's pansy purple blouse but over her stomach, and hauled her close. Morrigan flinched and gulped mutedly from the assault. Placing her obsidian lips against the fair-skinned earlobe, Ophelia first breathed licentiously, "Get over it, Morrigan," then she grazed a damp tongue on the side of her neck, starting from the base.

Morrigan shut her eyes and suppressed a moan simultaneously with the tingling sensation, skewing her head faintly upwards.

She snapped back to reality when Oghren's collapsing thump from behind resounded in the stone room and Ophelia swiftly pushed her away as Harrowmont returned his solemn regard for them.

"Oghren? What just happened?" Harrowmont expressed in wonder.

Shale speedily answered, "Must be all the ale. The dwarf drank itself to a binge as soon as we surfaced from the Deep Roads."

[-]

**Lasting Journey**

Ophelia lounged in a luxurious hot tub, its architecture carved from natural solid rock and its water heated by gingerly channeled lava. Harrowmont was generous in reward and coerced Ophelia to ask for anything she deemed fair. On the spur of the moment, she modestly asked for a hot bath.

Her body was submerged up to her shoulders and she sat contentedly on a well-shaped ledge beneath the water. She leaned her head against the tub's rim and rested her eyes, the dimly lit room and the mildly boiling water subduing her to sleep – until Morrigan stepped into the room. Ophelia could only gawp at her while she gracefully barged in.

The enchantress sashayed with an enticing grin, a towel wrapped around her suggestive and nude form. She ambled at the edge of the tub slightly across of her and made a blasé but dramatic peel of her towel. She ignored Ophelia's ogling eyes as the cloth slithered off of her, then she extended a silky leg and leisurely dipped into the water.

Ophelia swallowed, "You really made that towel's journey down your body last."

Morrigan giggled sensually as she crept closer to the tanned woman. "Oh? Did I?" She quizzed sweetly and braced herself on the ledge where she sat, one hand settling in the narrow space between Ophelia's thighs.

The blonde hummed while their faces drifted closer, their noses a centimeter from touching, "_Mmhmm…_" She parted her lips to capture her rosy ones but Morrigan recoiled with a devilish mien.

The Witch of the Wilds steadily placed her hands on her shoulders and hastily readjusted her position to straddle the Grey Warden. She loomed over her and traded lustful stares for a few seconds, her dampened lengthy hair clinging to her breasts attractively. Then she eventually sunk down and purred by her ear, "Can you sense how much I want you?"

When Ophelia froze and just blinked dumbly, Morrigan coaxed, "Kiss me."

Ophelia obeyed, their lips meeting for a momentary tight peck, then they widened for a fiery tongue grapple.

Some heartbeats later, Morrigan angled her lips away enough to merely command: "Touch me," then she guided Ophelia's right hand to cup a milky breast, their tongues intertwining once again.

Ophelia felt dizzy from the entrancing activity, the surrounding steam seemingly heightened along with their passions.

Morrigan swayed a little as her hands shuffled from roving behind her back, the nape of her neck, and her cheeks. "Take me," she demanded fleetingly, supervising Ophelia's left hand to swim by her core.

They kissed some more 'til she briefly peeped at her, batting her eyelashes seductively, then added: "Have me."

[-]

_Love is unrelenting,  
>It burns deep,<br>Like a slumbering earthquake,  
>On a pillow of flame,<br>I would burn over a thousand fires,  
>For the object of my desire,<br>A breath of twilight blows,  
>How this need inside me grows.<em>

[-]

**Dazzling Bracelet**

The silent evening blew a calming breeze on the trees, inducing dangling autumn leaves to drop unto the crimson and gold floor. A Templar and apostate's boots carelessly crunched over the foliage that sprinkled path as they progressed back to their camps, finished with the little errand that they were assigned.

"You know… I'm glad you've toned your–err–meanness down a notch," Alistair finally blurted out, not necessarily looking at the woman behind him.

"Are you seriously talking to me?" Morrigan apathetically replied.

"Yes. I'm hardly terrified to tackle anything now. Haven't you noticed?" he raised a finger up to point out, "Ophelia calls it… Character building. I truly feel like a strengthened man. I'll be a bloody tyrant once she's done with me. Haha. Since she's hardly finished."

Morrigan responded earnestly, her eyes counting the stars, "Not a surprise. There's a plethora of deficiencies to work on. And some flaws cannot be mended, such as your striking resemblance to a toadstool, for instance."

"Hey... That's cutting it close. But I still think you've improved a bit..." Alistair solemnly remarked, "We all have, one way or another…" a small number of steps later, he supplemented, "She's a great leader."

With that aside, they returned to their peaceful voyage. They viewed the ground as the night air caused the leaves to playfully tumble into each other.

But then an owl's hoot echoed in the woods and Alistair brusquely announced, "Oh! I need to go."

"What?" Morrigan questioned in irritation, shocked that he 'needed to go.' _Couldn't he hold it in?_

"Nature calls, I need to go," he glimpsed at her a concluding time then jogged into the shadows of the forest.

Morrigan snarled tetchily, "What are you – seven years old?" Unable to receive a reaction, she scoffed to herself then folded her arms and leaned on her rearmost foot in an exasperated exertion to wait. _Possible tyrant? For her, he would always be a foolish and immature boy._

"By the Maker!" Alistair yelled somewhere in the darkness – metals clinking and rowdy beating sounds mixed with grunts and groans could be discerned.

She shouted in astonishment, "Alistair!" then she hurriedly dashed for him, "FOOL!" _How the fuck could he get in trouble taking a stupid piss?_

Upon reaching a few yards inside, she swerved her head around to search for him. _Trees. Trees. More despicable trees!_ Following the sounds and smell instead, she had shapeshifted into a spider and distinguished his location.

He was raucously fighting against three masked bandits who appeared like amateurs by the way they struggled to beat him. When one of them lunged after him and brought him down, she copied the action and lunged after the thug, all eight of her legs pinning him down.

The bandit frantically squealed when she lowered her spider head to chew on him, "NO! NO! DON'T EAT ME!"

_Motherfuck… That voice…_

"_Huh––?"_ Morrigan transformed back into her human form, totally appalled, _"Ophelia?"_

The boisterous clamor ended when Morrigan christened her name and Zevran removed his disguise. "Ha–ha! Our plan worked flawlessly!" he hit the other 'bandit's' hand for a high-five.

"Hehe. Yea!" It was Leliana… And she lent a hand for Alistair, "I knew she would come after you."

"Don't you guys think you got a little carried away? You didn't have to butcher me!" Alistair complained as he got on his feet, "I'm gonna have bruises after this…"

"You weren't screaming loud enough. We had to make it sound convincing," the bard chuckled.

Ophelia slipped her mask off and observed Morrigan cutely, "Hi Morrigan. You're looking extra beautiful this evening." Recognizing the other woman's heaving chest and contorting expression, she pleaded, "Please don't kill me?"

"_You–!" _Morrigan sneered under absolute scorn, _"Why you–––!"_

_SLAP!_

"OWW!" Ophelia cried when Morrigan's palm connected with her face. She attempted to reason while the witch pounded her away.

"Morrigan!" A backhand.

"Please no!" A double smack.

"Alistair was the mastermind of all this! He wanted to get back at you badly!"

Morrigan paused, gripping the neckline of her shirt sorely upwards, "Do you take me for a fool?" Then she stretched an arm high up, "Alistair is not that wily!"

_SLAP––––––!_

Elsewhere, Wynne stirred a pot, laughing inwardly at the distinct shrieks of their fearless leader.

"_What are you doing?"_

"_NO!"_

"_I have a dazzling bracelet waiting for you at camp!"_

"_OH DEAR GOD NO!"_

"_What are you three giggling at?"_

"_HELP ME! HELP!"_

[-]

**Impressive Résumé**

Ophelia marched to her tent, her boots clicking in a unique pace. Prior to their grand supper and game of cards, Morrigan had implied a desire to speak privately with her. Spotting the studious mage on a mat by their small campfire, she advanced noiselessly.

Ophelia delicately hunkered down by Morrigan, who concentrated on reading the black grimoire. She initiated the imminent conversation resolutely, "So… Found something you wish to share?"

Morrigan answered with a light hesitance, eyes glued to the tome, "'Tis… Not what I expected. I had hoped for a collection of her spells, a map of the power that she commands. But this is not it." Then she surveyed her, face stained with trepidation…

…_And conflict._ Ophelia guessed, "Yet you look disturbed."

"Disturbed? Yes, perhaps that is the right word. One thing in particular within her writings disturbs me," Morrigan flipped the book and traced at a foreign writing with her finger, "Here, in great detail, Flemeth explains the means by which she has survived for centuries."

"A spell of immortality?"

"If only 'twere so," she inhaled sharply then she proclaimed comprehensively, glimpsing at the attentive Warden, "Flemeth has raised many daughters over her long lifetime. There are stories of these many Witches of the Wilds throughout Chasind legend, yet I have never seen a one and always wondered why not. And now I know. They are all Flemeth. When her body becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter. And when the time is right, she takes her daughter's body for her own."

Ophelia loosened her posture on the mat, sprawling her legs out, "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

Morrigan continued in an enlightening tone, "Once, Flemeth was a mage. This was before the time of the Circle of Magi, but she wielded magical power of the same sort that all the ancient shamans did. 'Twas no different. She summoned a demon and made it part of her, and became an abomination. One that was thrived. Whether Flemeth has always been the demon, or mastered it, or they are one… I truly do not know. No matter what she is, her body still ages and will not sustain her forever. So she must find new bodies. I… Am to be the next new body, in a very long line."

_Merging with a demon…_ "So is Flemeth immortal or not?"

"Whatever spark of the demon that made her what she is remains within her keeps her from dying of old age. But her body deteriorates. Eventually she would be so wizened as to be senseless and immobile. So she must seek a new body, a fresh body, and start the cycle anew."

Ophelia cocked her head to a side, "Can this body be anyone? Or it must be a daughter?"

"I am… Uncertain. According to her writings, certain hosts are better than others. The more a host is prepared, the quicker the transition will be." Morrigan abruptly detracted her gaze in distress, her speech diminutively shaky, "I am… Sorry. This simply takes me by surprise. I would have thought I would have had some inkling… Some notion…"

Ophelia laid a hand on her shoulder in an effort to appease her, "You really had no idea?"

"Flemeth is capable of many things. I was a fool not to suspect her capable of using me for her own self-preservation."

"So why would she risk sending you with me?"

"I do not know. Perhaps 'tis as she said: the darkspawn threaten her as much as they threaten anyone else. Or perhaps she believes that this journey will make me more powerful." Morrigan elaborated further while she fiddled with a page, "According to the tome, if the… Host… Is already powerful and trained in magic, it takes far less time for Flemeth to… Settle in."

"So if you died she would have another daughter?"

"Not by any natural means. Perhaps I would take this as a vote of confidence from her on my capabilities? Or perhaps she simply wished me gone from the Korcari Wilds so she could prepare her ritual in peace. A disturbing thought."

Ophelia bolted upright and decisively beheld her, "Are you certain about this?"

Morrigan bobbed her head, "Indeed. That is primarily what this tome details. The various daughters that Flemeth has… Acquired. Their preparation and training," then she shook her head from disbelief, "I recognize all of it. I… Am to be her next host. This is my purpose."

"And you had no idea? I'm so sorry," Ophelia rubbed at her back affectionately.

"Do not be sorry. I am not. I am angry." Morrigan scowled as she arrived at a conclusion, "There is only one possible response to this: Flemeth needs to die. I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled. Flemeth must be slain and I need your help to do it."

Ophelia detached her hand, skeptical, "Kill Flemeth? Isn't that a little extreme?"

"It may seem so, if you think of Flemeth as a mother. Think of her, instead, as an ancient abomination that intends to use her own flesh and blood to extend her life beyond all natural limits." Morrigan persuaded, yellow cat eyes soliciting determinedly for sympathy, "She did not wish anyone to get ahold of this information, least of all me. Now I have. If I do not act on what I know, then more the fool am I."

"Perhaps you should talk to her about it first?"

"And what would that do? At best I would receive pointless reassurances. At worst, Flemeth would imprison me once she became aware I know what I do. I know my mother well enough to be confident she would show no mercy when it came to her own survival. I must do the same."

"Not to be appalling, but…" Ophelia scratched at her neck for the diffident transition, "Why… Would you need my help?"

"Because if she is slain while I am near, I am not certain that she will not simply be able to take possession of me right there. So obviously I cannot be the one to do it." Morrigan exhaled heavily to gather her courage then she twisted her upper body and caressed the rogue's face lovingly, whispering her appeal, "I trust you… You can do this. Please..."

Ophelia dallied wordlessly, searching in the glimmering stars for a solution. She deliberated intensely… _Kill Flemeth? It was a crazy idea. Absurd. Outrageous. Suicidal. But if it meant that Morrigan would be safe from her… She had been willing to take dangerous risks for innumerable others she personally did not know of and so she would be willing to take this risk for her… Besides… Well… It would fill an impressive spot in her résumé... _"Okay. I'll help you, if I can," she faced Morrigan, assuring her with a determined countenance.

Morrigan smiled faintly then she specified, "Then what needs to be done is for you to go back to Flemeth's hut in the Korcari Wilds… Without me. Confront her and slay her quickly. I doubt she would truly be dead even then, but it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power… If that is even possible. The thing I must have is her true grimoire. With it I can defend against her power in the future. Everything else in her hut is yours."

Ophelia sighed, "I'll see what I can do." She couldn't convey more as Morrigan inched closer and trapped her in a fervent kiss.

A minute later, Morrigan broke away and expressed her utmost gratitude, "I am grateful. The sooner this can be done, the sooner it will set my mind at ease."

Ophelia nodded to accept her thanks then she reclaimed her mouth and stuck with her decision, for now…

_But why would Flemeth need to write about the process if the procedure was as gravely confidential to herself as it was?_

[-]

_I am the rider of the wind,  
>The stirrer of the storm,<br>A hurricane of rage,  
>In human form,<br>And now the hour has arrived,  
>And this vow I renew,<br>I am a monster of the sky,  
>And I'm coming after you.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Monster of the Sky" by Stereo Alchemy

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><p><strong>Feedback for Bernal Heights<strong>

**Andy Lewis**: Thanks! And I'm trying. D:

**Silentragnarok**: Thank you so much! But... I'm a girl. XD Glad you're liking the music. From here on out, they'll be mostly darker themed.

**Moral Attention**: Thanks! Glad the Morrigan and Leliana banter was good for you! I'm so relieved. XD

**whiskered oranges**: As long as you review before I post the next chapter, you're awesome. :D I am so happy their interaction was believable for you. That makes me feel like a writer with a really good grasp of their characters. Lol. And you should know... Wynne and Zevran do have a banter about her bosom in the game. I won't spoil it for you but it's pretty fokin' funny. Try YouTube if you don't have a save. Thanks for all the compliments. And also, how do you like the song for this one? There will be more songs like this one.

**Only four reviews for the last chapter? Aww... Give me more! ; 3;**

* * *

><p>AN: I tried a new... Structure? Sorry if it seems like things were rushed. It's supposed to have a faster pace for this chapter with only brief highlights of their relationship... But I might add some more things in the future if this isn't adequate.

I will edit this a bit and try to update again before the duration of a week.

Huhuhu... Review please.

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	9. Chapter 9 Doubt

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_Minor Edit: March 30th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 9 - <strong>Doubt<strong>

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><p><em>Flemeth was widely recognized as an immortal and extremely powerful being, wielding occult magic and shapeshifting into prominent creatures. She lived through many generations, terrorizing the Korcari Wilds and bearing daughters that could 'kill a man by fear alone' – amongst countless other tales. She was a force to be reckoned with, there was no doubt. Any sane and informed individual would figure as much. There were plenty for Ophelia to take heed of – the numerous legends, Morrigan's brief anecdotes, what she had physically seen… It should have been enough.<em>

_And yet..._

_–_

_–_

_–_

_"And so you return," Flemeth welcomed from out of her infirm hut as soon as Ophelia waltzed within earshot. "Lovely Morrigan has at last found someone willing to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn't you say?" The ancient witch had an abundance of wrinkles, but none of them were from worry._

_Ophelia halted a few yards of marsh grass from her then testified, "Mmhmm. Incredibly enchanting. I could dance to it for all eternity." She folded her arms, put her weight on her rearmost foot, and cocked her head to a side unaffectedly, her complete pretense an obvious mockery. "And greetings to you as well."_

_Flemeth snorted delightfully, "Hahaha~ Such wit you possess. Tell me then, which tune brought you here. What has Morrigan told you, hmm? What little plan has she hatched this time?"_

_"You won't believe me..." Ophelia shrugged, her façade imitating an ignorance that could irritate, "I honestly have no idea. But I trust that you both should, is that accurate?"_

_The shriveled hag scoffed loudly, "Bah! So you come to me as a mere puppet. Shame. From you, I expected more." She delayed to put a daunting index to a side of her chapped lips then pondered, her voice shrill, "Very well. Let us skip right to the ending, shall we? Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids? Or does the tale take a different turn?"_

_Ophelia blinked and upturned a curious brow, "Oh? Did you have a proposal? What choices will I be given?"_

_"Choice. There is power in choices, as there is in lies. I shall give you one of each. Morrigan wishes my grimoire?" Flemeth extended a calm palm towards the door of her hut, the gesture seemingly as easy as her offer, "Take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain."_

_"And what happens to you?"_

_"I go. Perhaps I surprise Morrigan one day… Or I may simply watch. It would be interesting to see what she does with her freedom. Enlightening, even. Would you give an old woman that?" Flemeth proclaimed simply, her tone harmless yet filled with mysterious intent._

_Ophelia modeled a stoic mien and stated flatly, "For a powerful being, you're exceptionally lenient toward your would-be assassin and plotting daughter..."_

_"We believe what we want to believe. It's all we ever do," Flemeth explicated then probed quite seriously, "What will it be, then?"_

_"Unfortunately," Ophelia momentarily eyed for the dormant sun, the opportunity for it to rise impending on them, "I don't shy away from a challenge. Plus…" she then regarded Morrigan's mother with sudden evident arrogance, snickering lightly with her next sentence, "I am intrigued by what you may have in store for me..."_

_Flemeth cackled hysterically, her unkempt hair rearranged every time she convulsed from laughter, "Hahaha! To deliver a bluff in that tone and with a devious smirk," she eventually stopped then criticized sternly, "Truly, yourself-confidence is admirable. Pity it is misplaced." Her sinister yellow eyes narrowed severely as she taunted subtly, "You and I, we are not wholly different. But only one miscalculates. Let us find out who it is, shall we?" She left a concluding gremlin gaze then ambled for the empty field by her shed and goaded, "Come. She must earn what she takes. I'd have it no other way." When she reached the epicenter of the plain, her frail form began to glow a bright white which expanded immensely into a shape of a dragon._

_Ophelia was unafraid and only broadened her smirk in undertone, "Talk is cheap, especially for someone who had already foreseen her demise."_

_She irrepressibly curved the corners of her stygian lips upwards, her gleaming white teeth becoming bare to shed a distorted smile in the gloomy presence of dawn._

[-]

_Wanting meaning, wanting more than the same things,  
>Wanting everything, just to start at the ending,<br>I found another face to show,  
>Just because what you say is what will go.<em>

[-]

Everyone had their own suspicions of what Morrigan's ultimate goal was. In truth, nearly everybody had suspicions of each other's goals but rarely spoke of it. Nevertheless, Morrigan's case was disparate. Not only was she Flemeth's daughter, possibly capable of unspeakable deceits, but she had also become intimately close to Ophelia – so close that even the cunning commander could be vulnerable to manipulation.

Therefore, proceeding onwards for the larger bonfire, Ophelia sought the rest of her team's diverse viewpoints for an amount of guidance; though she would converse vaguely to be bereft of qualm.

Sporting a laidback outfit, she strutted in a small circle by the fire then cleared her throat. "Hey guys… Come sit with me for some minutes," she signaled come hither motions then propped herself on a stool.

Every person who had been setting up their tents or gathering cooking supplies swiftly dropped their tasks and obliged with their leader, babbling restrained remarks of 'okay' and 'alright.'

"Is there something wrong?" Leliana queried, the first to sashay for her seat.

Once everyone appeared to grab a seat, Ophelia replied, "No, there's nothing wrong. I just wanted to… Get everyone's thoughts on Morrigan. It's been a while."

"About her… Disregard our previous talk. I've had a change of heart," Wynne professed kindly.

"Oh," Ophelia articulated in mild astonishment.

"Err… Is it okay for us to discuss… Her? What if she's listening?" Alistair noted the burden with a half-whisper.

"Don't fret. I sent her off somewhere. She won't be back in a while." Ophelia guaranteed then her gaze glided for every member of her team before she began sternly, "Like I said, I want to know your thoughts on Morrigan. Even of our… Relationship, you might say." She sighed but didn't leave a space for them to comment yet. "Personally, as everyone might've guessed, I've grown 'fond' of her. And not predominantly on accident, I sort of pursued her as well," she chuckled blithely at the confession. "At any rate, I'm well-aware that some of you had problems with her and wished her away. So…" Her fingers fidgeted to some degree but her eyes kept strong. "How is she now? Did you notice a significant change? Will it last?" she finally opened the floor and particularly stared at Wynne, Alistair, and Leliana.

"I have watched you and Morrigan for a time…" Wynne admitted fairly, "And I realized I was wrong. With you, she's improved. There seems to be something special between the two of you. It doesn't happen often but I even see her smile to herself, sometimes, when she watches you."

Ophelia fleetingly fluttered her eyelashes to detain her cheeks from blushing then she responded cheerfully, "That's really cute… Do continue watching her and tell me more."

Zevran added, "Feel free to inquire with me as well. I have a great deal of stories to tell you, my dear." The elf was truly like a tenacious gnat, as the witch had mentioned before.

"_Haha~_ Great." Ophelia giggled, along with some members, wholly aware of their misadventures.

Oghren grumbled with a snort, "Aye, me too." The following pun rendered Zevran with a snigger. "That's if… I can remember the touchy parts."

"I know I occasionally did it too… Guilty," Ophelia stretched a surrendering hand. "But quit raping Morrigan with your eyes, guys," she tittered flippantly.

"_Guh…_ Men… _And _Ophelia…" Wynne shook her head disappointedly. "Anyway, I think I was too harsh on my judgment before," she decided to purge the banter by abruptly making amends. "And I am sorry."

Ophelia speedily salvaged her maturity then acknowledged, "You wanted the best for both of us."

Wynne finished with a heartwarming oration, "What you have may not last forever; death and duty may part you, but love's worthiness is not diminished because of that. I should've seen this before. Instead you learn to cherish every precious moment that you spend together, knowing that it may be the last. And for those of us… Watching… Well, it brings warmth to these old bones to know that something so beautiful can be found in the midst of chaos and strife."

"That's very… Good to know. I appreciate your input Wynne…" Ophelia gratified, "But love is a scary word. If you could cut it down, just a teeny bit," she demanded with a slight simper. "Well… What does everyone else think?"

Leliana asserted next, "In all honesty, I was a little disappointed at first… I thought that your relationship might affect our entire group. If suddenly she is more important to you than the rest of us." She glimpsed down temporarily, "You could take unnecessary risks for her and put us all in danger."

Ophelia shuddered inwardly at the sentence, the impending task she chose to undertake nagging at her consciousness.

Leliana went on, "But you have been able to manage us wonderfully, thus far. You are extremely wise and kind. I shouldn't have doubted you." She assured further and nodded definitively, "And yes… You're good for her. She's tremendously lucky. And if she makes you happy… Then I am happy for you."

The red head's sapphire eyes manifested a soft sheen that almost made Ophelia twinge. "Just so it's clear…" She digressed, "It wasn't my intention to squeeze your sympathies. I didn't expect for this much optimism on the matter…" Then she looked at Leliana amiably, "Thank you, Leliana."

"You're welcome."

Alistair interjected with a minor sneer, "Well if you wanted some cynicism… She's still a bitch. Just a more lighthearted bitch." Then he chortled with everyone.

"True enough. It's a part of her personality that I strangely adore," Ophelia bit her lower lip sheepishly.

"You like her… That's it." Alistair waved a resolving hand, "I've trusted your judgment since the day we've met. If I think she's playing you, I'm most likely wrong, anyhow. But I do agree that she's improved. We've actually… Chatted about it a bit before the prank. How you've changed us."

"Interesting… I'm glad to hear that," Ophelia uttered with an affected voice then her eyes veered for the elf, "Zevran?"

"Y'know I'm all for you taming fiery britches," Zevran wiggled his eyebrows while he caught a coin he flipped in midair.

"Sten?"

"She is a viper. But you are a hawk. You could eat her for breakfast," Sten remarked stoically.

"_Heh_. Great analogy... And– _errm_– I already do..." Ophelia coughed discreetly, inciting muted chuckles. "Shale?"

"It can do as it pleases. But the swamp witch will be watched closely."

"Fair enough," she rubbed at her chin, "And, of course... Oghren?"

"Hey... If you ask me, she's just like Branka. I won't even go to the... Homosexual aspect," Oghren reverberated a merge of a hiccup and a belch, "But you deserve to know that you are the only rugmuncher that I approve of!" he jutted a bottle of ale outwards then chugged it in cheers for Ophelia.

"Aww... Oghren that's... Sweet... In the essence of the compliment," Ophelia sympathized for the heartbroken dwarf. Branka, Oghren's then-wife, had to be slain for insanity over acquisition of the Anvil. Not only that, the Paragon dwarf had a female lover named Hespith, whom they've met in the Deep Roads.

Ophelia dallied to convey her thinking yet agreeable mood before dismissing them, "Alright, thanks for your time. Go ahead and continue your tasks."

As they gradually got up and dispersed, Nutella rapidly crept beside her and whined, neglected.

"It's okay boy," she petted his head, "You like her a lot, there's no question."

He barked positively in response and slobbered allover her bare hand.

"Okay boy. You like my salty skin?" she angled her hand for his convenience, "You do... Don't you? How about this?" she tickled at his chest and stomach furiously, the dog happily rolling over to his back, _"Yeaaa..."_

While she played with her dog and outwardly had fun, her mind wrote a critical summary and processed its details fastidiously.

_They had slowly accepted the witch, granting her what she formerly aimed for. But they weren't fully devoid of mistrust – just as she should be._

When Morrigan pleaded Ophelia to assassinate her mother – thanks to her sharp cognizance – the request directly raised a red flag. Ophelia contemplated the furtive motives the witch probably had pertaining to the appeal. Safety could be a motivation. But primarily…? If she had to speculate, it was to reduce her competition (if at all) or, at least, caution her mother that she had gained a formidable friend. As for what the competition would be, it could be anything surreptitious between the mother and daughter. That was Ophelia's best and most basic assumption.

In spite of those actualities, Morrigan proved to not essentially need her, for whatever she could be planning, by prompting to withdraw from the group innumerable times. Security-wise, Ophelia reckoned she could still trust Morrigan and for that, she was willing to play along. Besides, she had high hopes that Morrigan would be turning a brand new leaf at the end of their adventure.

_Whatever deceptive notions she was having… She would not deliberately hurt her – would she?_

[-]

_Doubt, in it all for me,  
>I've hit the wall, all that's left for you is doubt,<br>Better you than me, I've so far to fall,  
>All that's left for you is doubt,<br>In it all for me, I've hit the wall,  
>All that's left for you is doubt,<br>Better you than me, I've so far to fall,  
>But I can't change now.<em>

[-]

The following morning, Morrigan languidly awoke, studying her tent's inner workings with indolent eyes.

_Mmm… Bugger… Perhaps she should go back to sleep._

Dumping the idea as nonsensical, she groaned profoundly then heaved herself up from her bedroll. She stayed seated for a while, meditating on soothing a tight soreness in her chest.

_She wasn't tired. Last night's lustful expedition wasn't extremely taxing for her. In fact, she had fallen asleep quite early and soundly. It just felt unusual to be uneasy if there was no apparent cause._

Wrapping a blanket around her naked body, she stood up and made an effort to prepare for the day.

Minutes later, she had washed up, dressed herself, and tied her hair in a bun; the routine hastily accomplished.

Walking towards Ophelia's tent, her heart retained its uncomfortable throbbing.

_What the fuck was wrong with her?_

Clutching the edges of the entrance and parting them sideward, she leisurely barged into her leader's tent and briskly scanned the pristinely organized interior. Her golden eyes expanded to an extent.

_–_

_–_

_–_

It was unoccupied.

[-]

"Did anyone see Ophelia this morning?" Morrigan projected in a demanding tone, shuffling her feet around the bigger campsite in search for the rogue. She typically found peace and solace in the melancholic mornings shrouded with clouds. Although this melancholic morning was dissimilar, she was aggravated with apprehension.

Leliana emerged from her tent, braiding her separated stresses, "No."

"Perhaps she took a stroll alone for some time on her own?" Wynne suggested, holding up the opening flaps of her tent.

Even Nutella cried and put his paws over his eyes, uninformed of his master's circumstance.

Morrigan glared irritably at the areas that were deprived of Ophelia, "Impossible. She must be here somewhere."

"Ophelia had never strolled alone before to think... But there's a first time for everything, I suppose..." Leliana theorized.

Alistair outstretched his arms after lifting the covers of his tent, yawning noisily, "It's not completely otherworldly… Since she did say we're taking a small vacation, am I right?" He slurred, ridding the crooks of his eyes of morning glory.

"'Twould be an ideal proposition for the situation, given she had warned us first. It seems blatantly irresponsible for her to do so otherwise."

"Such an anxious grimace you model, my dear," Zevran combed his hair while he boasted his exposed pectoral muscles, "I fear for your skin, lest it unleash a horde of blemish or one."

"_Ugh..._Do you not have something more constructive to say?" Morrigan gave him a fleeting once-over then spat, "Must you always parade around shirtless in the morning?"

Zevran snickered, "Yes. The wind feels great on the skin. It builds amazing sensations, as you should have familiarity of," he winked. "And to answer your first question, I do have one thing constructive to say."

"And what might that be, pray tell?"

"I am willing to bet ten sovereigns that your fine lady is fine."

"Anyone who can wield a blade like her and soak it bloody well is fine by me. HAH!" Oghren unexpectedly rumbled from his prone station on the dirt ground, half-asleep.

"You are disgusting, dwarf." Morrigan massaged her temples then moaned unpleasantly, "I cannot tarry here longer with these... Buffoons..." She steered away past Leliana to flee from the rabble.

But Leliana caught up and reassured supportively, "Morrigan, she's fine... She has to be."

Morrigan earnestly bobbed her head once then strode away.

[-]

Morrigan revisited Ophelia's tent and tetchily rummaged through her belongings for a clue to where she might've departed.

Her bedroll was neatly rolled.

Her clothes were fit snuggly in her luggage.

Her recently worn outfit was hanged on the back of a chair.

Her armor and daggers were absent.

Her mini desk was clear.

_Her mini desk was clear…_

_Except for the ring she gave._

Morrigan absorbed the rosewood ring necklace into her palms and gritted her teeth, a pang of anguish and fury elevating.

_It was no wonder why she couldn't track her… And why her embittered lungs choked at her palpitating heart… Her budding fond connection with the rogue was brazenly cut off and the detachment apportioned a hollow fissure in her heart._

In reality, she already knew – but she desperately refused to concede it. That Ophelia had gone to do the favor she asked for in secret and destitute of vital help.

_And destitute of vital help! Shit. That ignorant bitch. She would die by her mother's hands… What the fuck was she thinking?_

Morrigan huffed a breath of absolute disdain then stormed out of the vacant tent.

[-]

_Missing the life gone by that I have lost,  
>I'm missing the better times that I had lost,<br>When you're near me I get tired when you follow,  
>When you speak what you say is what will go,<br>Will go,  
>What you say is what will go.<em>

[-]

"Sten," Morrigan called somberly, pulling her hood over her head.

"Yes?" was Sten's equally somber reply. He was sharpening his claymore and sitting on a tree stump when he was interrupted.

"If anyone wonders why I'm gone, tell them I'm returning with Ophelia," her cat eyes beheld the man with commanding vigor. "I know where she is."

He stated out of understanding: "Hmm. Okay."

"I can trust that you will not conspire against me, qunari?"

"I will wait for valid evidence before attempting such a thing."

"Good," Morrigan ratified. "It may take us seldom hours or the entire day. Let's hope for the former," she decreed ambiguously then vanished into the thick of the forest without delay.

She shapeshifted into a wolf then sprinted. She ran as fast as she could, zooming her sight only on her target as she jumped over logs and waded past streams. The barely peeking sun was the only entity that slackened her, blurring her vision.

Her home, the Korcari Wilds, was a few hours from their location. If Ophelia wasn't uncovered sneaking by any of the people in the group, she must've taken her leave before the break of dawn.

_Which meant that the deed was either done, compromised, or she was dead…_

She would determine her faith as soon as she could, because she was apprehensive of her mother's abilities and Ophelia wouldn't be able to comprehend the gravity of the hopeless encounter she forcibly confronted by herself.

[-]

_Doubt, in it all for me,  
>I've hit the wall, all that's left for you is doubt.<em>

[-]

A sweaty forehead rammed against a rough tree, its dried leaves shaken off their weak grasps.

"Stop."

A bloodied, gloved hand seized an aching head which inclined lower against the tree trunk.

"No."

The hand crumpled into an enraged fist then harassed an innocent tree repetitively in a barrage of beseech.

"Stop."

_–_

_–_

_–_

_–_

"Stop…"

_–_

_–_

_–_

_–_

_–_

_–_

_"Stop…"_

And with that last word came a collapsing thud.

[-]

_Better you than me, I've so far to fall,  
>All that's left for you is doubt,<br>In it all for me, I've hit the wall,  
>All that's left for you is doubt,<br>Better you than me, I've so far to fall,  
>But I can't change now.<em>

[-]

The sun sunk low beyond the horizon with no more clouds blocking its glory. It stretched its remaining luminance across the emotionless savanna as a final motivation for the lone canine who parted streaks of tall grass in the sepia meadow.

Morrigan traveled through miles and strenuous miles of grassland and swamps, searching for Ophelia as a scrutinizing wolf. It had been hours since she left from camp and tracked the suicidal rogue by crawling, almost embracing the ground, desperately rifling through the earth's vast scents with her snuffling nose and scraping paws to specifically seek Ophelia's. When she distinguished a tiny inkling of her whereabouts, she morphed into a perceptive raven, circling a patch of the Wilds high in the sky. She repeated the method again and again until it grew exasperating and her patience took its toll, driving her even more furious about the whole ordeal.

Kneeling on a clearing, now as a woman with a developing headache, Morrigan buried her forehead in her palms and seethed noiselessly.

_The Grey Warden's safety was far more important than hers, however reckless and senseless then fruitful her feats might've been at times. Her responsibility to protect them was second to their responsibility to protect her – surely she was aware of that._

_It was unbelievable that she couldn't trace her whereabouts in the Wilds that was two decades or so native to her. What an utter failure. The stupid woman obviously didn't wish to be followed; leaving the ring she gave her and all..._

_To eliminate Flemeth single-handedly…_

_For what purpose?_

_If she died, it would mostly be her fault._

She remained mute for an expanse of time, reflecting on what she had gotten the woman into. Concurrently with her self-loathing, the wind compassionately blew against her frame as if it was offering a hug.

_That foolish… Imbecilic… Moronic… Birdbrained… Cretin._

In her decision to snap out of the useless cogitated ranting, Morrigan combed her jet black hair with her fingers once before woozily standing to resume her chase. The moment she got on her feet and held her head up – her aureate eyes instantly unsealed, her irises shimmering bewildering gentleness like the felicitous blooming of an evening primrose.

The woman she had been distressing for had presented herself to her a couple of yards away, altogether intact.

Morrigan unconfined a speechless gasp as Ophelia stared at her normally, as if the hellish day had been just like any other.

"Lovely day – isn't it?" the blonde remarked coolly. She posed casually despite her ripped short side-cape and partially burnt regal armor. The blood that stained a crimson line past her left eye and down her lips didn't prevent her from forming a pleasant grin. But behind the untied frazzled hair that swayed erratically against the breeze, her silver orbs contained a flicker of exhausted fragility.

_She was still a woman… And still as fragile as her._

Morrigan couldn't choose whether to scream or screech, so she mumbled coherently, "Ophelia…" But with her immediate anger quickly overwhelming her deep concern, she advanced on her. Then she slapped her ruthlessly. Then she snarled piercingly, "_You..._You fool! I did not ask you to slay Flemeth alone!"

Ophelia firmly and painlessly replied, "But I did it... I killed her solo."

"You should've told the others to aid you!" Morrigan shoved an accusing finger on her shoulder and questioned her with a scorching glare, "And why would you leave the ring?"

"Why argue about it, Morrigan?" Ophelia tried to caress the sneering face but her hand was harshly swatted away. "Shouldn't we celebrate, now that your beloved mother is dead?"

Morrigan balled her fists above her head and gripped at her own hair in frustration. "What you did was foolhardy! You could've been badly injured! Worse, you could've gotten yourself killed!" She scolded with a yell that carried a somewhat nervous tone. "You risked your life for what? For selfish glory? You have absolutely gone mad!" as Morrigan continued with her venting, Ophelia began to approach her sluggishly.

"I'm sorry…"

_"Wh–what are you–––?"_

The unpredictable scoundrel's eyes spun to white as she urgently fainted, landing directly towards the shorter sorceress, the blonde's head leaning heavily on the fair-skinned shoulder.

Morrigan practically stumbled a fall backwards as she strained to keep them both upright, "Ophelia?" she christened in sudden plain care, holding her tightly while she stooped low for a careful descent unto the plush grass.

"Ophelia…" the witch said softly, hoping for a reaction.

When there was none, Morrigan cradled the slumbering Warden to her chest and scrunched her brows against a tanned cheek, expressing her great relief at last.

All the while, the sun sheepishly excused itself from witnessing the sentimental scene by steadily shrinking under the evening's inviting blanket, a conclusion to the stressful pursuit.

[-]

_Doubt, in it all for me,  
>I've hit the wall, all that's left for you is doubt,<br>Better you than me, I've so far to fall,  
>All that's left for you is doubt,<br>In it all for me, I've hit the wall,  
>All that's left for you is doubt,<br>Better you than me, I've so far to fall._

[-]

That night… After they had successfully devised a fake story for the rest of the party, Morrigan prodded for answers as she healed Ophelia's petty wounds in her tent. She prodded and prodded, but she was merely given unclear responses and a mischievous grin. When her prodding turned into violent interrogation, Ophelia assumed control.

She assumed control in the form of passionate sex…

_How shameful that she succumbed so easily to the act._

_Albeit, she was grateful and happy that she was even there to perform intercourse with her._

_But she couldn't be silenced for too long…_

"Tell me…" Morrigan panted underneath Ophelia, her legs were spread for the cajoler to securely sheath herself into the welcoming warmth of her body. "Please…" she begged, cupping her noble visage, "How did you single-handedly slay my mother?"

"I had help," Ophelia stared her down, their noses touching closely.

"Help?" Morrigan gazed up and tried to analyze her partner, grazing her hand gently on a bandaged arm.

_Even now, the woman was a mystery. And she wretchedly had no measure of her caliber._

"Sufficient help from divine forces," Ophelia established jestingly, her platinum globes twinkling with devilish hunger and conceit that elicited Morrigan to cringe. She leaned lower and conquered wordless lips, her submerged fingers delving deeper as she did.

Morrigan winced and bowled her eyes backwards from the rhythmic rapture intensifying in her nether regions. She whimpered frantically as the waves of pleasure sped up, but her scream was muffled.

Defined goose bumps arose from her skin again, a mark from both lust _– and terrified skepticism._

[-]

_But I can't change now._

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Doubt" by Delphic (Don't Wait Animate Dubstep Remix)

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><p><strong>Feedback for Monster of the Sky<strong>

**Silentragnarok**: No worries! And about your language... That might explain why you called me bro. XD I hope my English is not too hard to understand. Thanks for the compliment!

**Sagnus**: I know, right? It's what you call... A plot hole? I could be a smart ass sometimes. 8D Glad you're enjoying it. Are you new? Or have you been reading every update? Not to scold you for not reviewing but just curious. :o

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**Dalish Elf**: A bug in the system, perhaps? I know the first 2 days of when I updated for chapter 8, my hits were 0 for the chapter. Impossible since people reviewed. Stupid FF. Anyway, glad you enjoyed the chapter and was your favorite! I'm not sure I'll have it in that type of structure again in the later chapters... Maybe.

**whiskered oranges**: Still trying to get me to try ME3, huh? xD Oh... I dunno... I might try ME3 when I have the time and I'm in the mood. About Wynne... That's unfortunate! I always liked a full girls party. Wynne had to be in my party! I made her an arcane warrior too. She had the best survival out of everyone. Funny for an old woman. XD And you can always load to an old save and redo everything just to get achievements. I do that. :P Oh God, just think how messed up of me it was, to turn in Morrigan as an apostate only to see what happens. And I killed Leliana and Wynne at the Urn too, one time. XD So how do you fancy dubstep? I listen to almost every genre as long as I can create a vivid image with it in my mind or it's stupidly enjoyable like some rap songs. Haha. Yea. Since you don't know what to call that structure, it's good to assume I've invented something then? Lol. How cool. And just note that Wynne wasn't cackling like a witch. That's something Flemeth would do. XD She's laughing mutedly.

**Andy Lewis**: Thanks! And I'll try again. :)

**SETTING UP A WAY TO REVIEW FAST. CHECK A/N.**

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><p>AN: So you can say I'm really greedy for reviews. I just can't help it. I even check my mail on the iPhone continuously just to see if there are more reviews. XD Here's what I propose...

**A MOTHAFOKIN RATING SYSTEM. YAA.**

Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...

5 - Totally Entertaining

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3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

Then add any additional remarks if you want. I like to converse with my reviewers. DON'T YOU SEEEE? I know there are more people reading since I have hundreds of visitors and you guys read through until the latest chapter (I can tell by the hits I receive.)

If no one uses this rating system... Well fok you with something sand-papery! Jk. I'll just scratch the idea. This was primarily made for the lurkers who don't wanna write anything! Review! :'( **Even if you review with just numbers, I don't mind. At least I know you're keeping tabs on my story. I like the feeling of not losing readers...**

That aside, the version of the song posted is what I want you to hear fully. The original is good but the dubstep version just gives an eerie feeling. Exactly what this chapter needs.

So... You may or may not have guessed Ophelia's darker side. But there will be explanation of that further in the story. I hope you all are still liking my original character even with this reveal!

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	10. Chapter 10 The Walk

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_Minor Edit: March 31st, 2014 (Might expand second half.)  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 10 - <strong>The Walk<strong>

* * *

><p>Dainty black boots rustled rapidly from vermilion to bronze, the fall foliage freely forbearing of the unintentional onslaught. The radiant sun hovered high enough for the lush forest to bask under its innocent glow and the cool wind blew gentle encouragements for the trees to be more vibrant in their show.<p>

For a mile or so the dainty black boots trampled on, their destination unknown yet unrelenting.

Morrigan just walked and walked, meditating deeply about the past few days. In fact, she was meditating deeply about the past hectic months. She was uncertain of what she sought after then and what she sought after now; what she only meant to accomplish then and what she truly cared to achieve now. She could no longer define herself in full and it pained her. She used to be so sure, so bold and confident in every way. If she wasn't, it was because she was still a child, not wholly absorbing of Flemeth's wisdom.

Ophelia had surely changed her. It was the whole cause of the unbearable conflict in her mind. She didn't know whether she liked the change and if she wanted to continue on that way or abandon it and revert back to her old ways for selfish power.

Furthermore, since her mother had perished… The shackles that were once bound to her were broken. No one had a hold over her anymore… In essence, she was at liberty to do anything she pleased.

Morrigan's feet slackened for a stop. She listened to the humble tweets of the birds and let the breeze play with her hair for a minute.

_To carry on like this... How each night they tangled their limbs, tongues, cores, heartbeats – and yet, possessed goals that most often conflicted than not… Ultimately, she was equally her guardian as she was her potential dangerous enemy._

Undecided, she twisted around to gaze at the trail where she came from, zoning through the tree infested horizon and into where her sentiments urged her to return.

[-]

_Inside out, upside-down twisting beside myself,  
>Stop that now, 'cause you and I were never meant to be,<br>I think you better leave; it's not safe in here,  
>I feel a weakness coming on.<em>

[-]

"I was waiting for you…" Ophelia began, trudging away from her breakfast to greet the witch.

But Morrigan simply marched past her, eyes distant.

"…To come in my tent this morning," Ophelia finished disappointedly, head drooping the instant she was ignored. She held it up in under a second and quietly reclaimed her place with the others to eat, raising her shoulders lightheartedly as they questioned her with puzzled faces.

"Bah! If she's not going to eat, I'm having the rest of the porridge!" Oghren called dibs.

Sten grunted, hammering a fist on the table, "_Pashaara_."

"Whoa, Sten!" Alistair exclaimed, catching his cup before it spilled completely.

Ophelia twirled a spoon with her fingers then pointed apathetically, "You two can split it."

"Thunderhumper…"

Zevran sighed noisily to snatch her attention, "So then… What is the plan today? Still think Morrigan is willing to have that fancy makeover?"

Ophelia shook her head half-dejected and half-unaffected.

"Aww, this is so sad," Leliana pouted.

Ophelia glimpsed at either of them and snorted, "I'll get her to mingle sometime before we end this Blight." She then beheld them firmly, brandishing her spoon to stress her vow, "This, I promise you." When she received subdued nods, she delegated for everyone near the table, "Everyone, do whatever your heart pleases for now. Just make sure you relax." She scanned her small crowd endearingly, "I'll plan some fun… Group things to do during the week."

Apart from the primary goal of saving Ferelden from the Blight, Ophelia strived to nurture her team into becoming closer. Not just to become more comfortable working with each other and be efficiently productive, but also to become better individuals. Plus, at the end of the day, she thought of Morrigan and how she could take an example out of them. In the heat of battle and with proper encouragements, each member became apt for the spirit of fellowship. They played cards, told stories, shared hidden talents, and more.

Nevertheless, Ophelia was fun and flexible, not berating them if they sometimes preferred to be aloof. Hence, seeing Morrigan in such a way this morning, she would be patient for her to rejoin their group in the afternoon.

They chattered for some minutes, discussing the possibility of Alistair's half-sister and Leliana's treacherous mentor residing in Denerim – Ferelden's capital and where they had decided to take a short vacation in. Ophelia implied that she would help them in their search but suggested not to stress over it too much. Pushing that aside, they had agreed to window-shop at the market district as their first itinerary.

With her bowl empty, Ophelia stood, "I'll go check up on Morrigan before we leave."

[-]

Ophelia stomped a foot just loud enough to announce her presence in Morrigan's tent. "Most of us are going to the market. You can follow or not, it's your choice," she declared, solemnly nonchalant.

Morrigan didn't spare a glance. Instead, she flipped a page on the book she was reading. The rogue watched her, waiting for a reaction while she adjusted her leather pants and belt.

Realizing that it was a false hope, Ophelia probed, "Was it my performance last night?"

Another page was flipped in silence.

"Okay. Ignore me…" Ophelia puffed out somewhat amusingly, "Even though I provided you with that precious book you're holding." She lifted the covers of her tent and intoned before leaving, "See you later."

Morrigan's eyelashes quivered a bit as she inhaled severely, Ophelia's understated unhappiness sucking substantial air from her tent in the departure.

[-]

_Alright then, I could keep your number for a rainy day,  
>That's where this ends, no mistakes no misbehaving,<br>Oh, I was doing so well, can we just be friends,  
>I feel a weakness coming on.<em>

[-]

Denerim's marketplace sprawled with tons of merchants, commoners, and even nobles and thieves, the otherwise holy city offering many things for the daily adventurer. It had dozens of vending stalls, magic shops, and armorers; each member that had chosen to join in window-shopping instantly obtained their individual piques of interest.

With the sun's heat directly over them, they strayed in pairs, shuffling efficiently and sharing their private stories from shop to shop.

Passing by a candy stall, Leliana initiated another conversation, "I bought a confection of spun sugar here once. It got stuck in my hair. Made it hard to comb out but it was very tasty for a few days." She giggled and hooked an arm into Ophelia's limp one.

"That sounds like you," Ophelia beamed at her then added her own anecdote, extending an index toward a jewelry store, "I once bought a really expensive choker for a friend over there. I was barely ten and I did so with my saved up allowance."

"Aww… How cute were you?" Leliana pried delightfully, leaning against Ophelia's shoulder and taking advantage of her leader's then-restrained openness about her personal life.

"Really cute," Ophelia replied pleasantly as they entered the collection and skimmed its lavish products. "Anyway, the funny thing was… It was the only necklace of its type at the time and there was a noble couple who contemplated on buying it before us but they left… So we bought it…" She glanced at Leliana, her silver eyes twinkling, "But then the couple comes back wanting to purchase it. They wondered, 'Where's the necklace?' They were probably calculating everybody's purses in the store, 'Who could possibly afford it?'" A brief laugh erupted out of them both as she continued, "Then they peered around and saw that my friend was already wearing it on her neck. So they glared at her icily then I stuck a tongue out in her defense. She was a commoner but they gave her the dirtiest look like she was a peasant."

"That's so funny."

"It was…" Ophelia proclaimed, gazing dreamily at the glowing gemstones, "They left with faces of utter humiliation, then my friend and I burst out snickering…" She additionally noted, "Smug nobles… We could've allowed them to buy it first then pickpocketed the necklace in the end, if we felt like it. My friend… She was my mentor as well. And she deserved it as token of my appreciation."

Leliana examined her from beside and inquired, "You had a wonderful teacher, didn't you?"

Ophelia corrected with the brightest smile Leliana had ever seen, "More than wonderful."

The female scoundrels eventually left the nostalgic store and carried along with their browsing and trading of short intimate tales. Ophelia finally granted Leliana plenty of what she had appealed to hear long ago, and the bard was grateful.

There was no harm in it… Morrigan had known more and she was less engrossed over her. Seeing the red head chuckle and chortle was a welcome contrast.

After a half hour or so of non-stop chitchat, Ophelia spotted Zevran with Alistair and advised to switch partners, requesting jokingly to pull her away from Leliana who grilled her to no end.

[-]

"_Ah_, at last! Some peaceful alone time with the loveliest woman in Thedas. Oh, how I do miss gallivanting around aimlessly with you," Zevran cried with joy as they promenaded together like a couple – but Ophelia was playing the man with her arm sagging over his shoulder and his hand securely over her hip.

"What? Truly? I thought you had your sights on Wynne," Ophelia teased the sweet-talking elf.

"_Haha~_ Wynne's a darling woman but you're in a league of your own, my dear."

She sniggered, "Thank you, Zevran. You're really stroking my big fat ego."

He tittered audibly in total understanding of the pun intended, "What can I say? I am well-experienced at stroking a great many things."

Ophelia cackled with him.

They strolled with boisterous cheer as they hunted the streets for the Pearl, the swankiest brothel in Denerim. They have both been there before and only planned to visit it for shameless but clean fun. Nonetheless, Ophelia invigorated Zevran to get laid if he wanted to.

When their banters slowly came to a calm, Zevran insisted quite seriously, "Now, to relieve me the pain of not knowing which is fact or fiction..." They swapped crooked eyebrows. "You and Morrigan... Have something special going on together, no?"

Ophelia shivered inwardly, unprepared for the assaulting curiosity, "Besides sex? I'd like to think so... But we're both aware this is temporary. The blight and all..."

He debriefed in some state of shock, "Oh? So neither of you desires for it to continue afterwards?"

"I haven't extremely pondered it... We hardly speak of feelings for each other. So I can't tell you, to be honest," she explained informatively.

"Well... Not speaking about feelings doesn't necessarily equal not showing them, correct?"

"True. But you can never be sure with Morrigan."

"Never?" He scoffed, "Now you lie to me. You are the sharpest woman I have ever met, and believe me, I have met plenty."

Ophelia swayed her head for a definitive 'no' and confessed, "I'm not that sharp."

Zevran surrendered indignantly, "Oh, _fine~_ Don't tell me.."

They established the bordello's location in a few more steps then separated from their friendly tangle at the entrance. Discerning a violent clamor coming from inside its walls, they glanced at each other and listened.

Upon opening the double doors, Zevran murmured promptly at the view, "Ah... Speaking of sharp women..."

A dark-skinned woman fought competently against three thugs; either her voluptuous body evaded deftly away from each attempted strike or her daggers met every one of them and countered back flawlessly. All the while in the whirlwind of chaos, she taunted them and guffawed with glee.

After one thug stumbled backwards and fell, he screamed a cowardly yield and the woman snarled for them to leave. She pillaged their money from the ground hurriedly then grinned at the effortless loot.

The moment she picked her dark head up to stand, her bronze eyes flatteringly locked with unparalleled diamonds that observed her keenly. She threw an impish smile and Ophelia caught it audaciously, forming a similarly impish smile of her own.

When Zevran approached the brunette and abruptly killed the electrifying exchange of licentious looks, the woman snubbed playfully, "And look who we have here. Come to apologize for leaving me bereft of my lord husband and then vanishing without a trace?"

Zevran elucidated with a congenial mien, "You know it was just business, Isabela. Business that turned out well for you, I see… You inherited the ship, I take it?"

Isabela easily reconsidered, "_Hmph. _I suppose I never did like the greasy bastard. And the siren treats me far better than she ever did him."

"Should I leave you two to catch up?" Ophelia advocated with a hazily meddlesome wrinkle of her brows.

"Any catching up Zevran and I have to do, we wouldn't be doing out here in the market," Isabela clarified, a hint of coquettishness adorning her lips, "Now Zev, shouldn't you introduce us?"

"Indeed. This is Isabela, queen of the eastern seas and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn," he presented her proudly then boasted, "And Isabela, my dear, you will no doubt be amused to discover that I am traveling with a Grey Warden. Her name is Ophelia."

"A Grey Warden?" Isabela flashed a distinct bat of her eyelashes with her acknowledgement, "Charmed."

"Your fighting skills are impressive. Different from my style though they have their similarities as well," Ophelia complimented modestly.

"I assumed you saw that little drama?" Isabela bragged, her voice fairly whimsical, "None of these poor brutes has ever proven a match for me. They are too clumsy and predictable. I fight with quickness and wit, rather than with brute force and strength. I call myself a duelist because I honed my skills in duels with warriors I encountered over the years."

"Interesting. Conversely, I fight with cunning and dexterity," Ophelia quipped and they chuckled feebly. "Will you teach me how to be a duelist?"

"_Ha!_ An unusual request coming from a fearsome slayer of darkspawn." Isabela tilted her chin conceitedly but narrowed her eyes conspicuously enamored, "I am flattered that you wish to learn from me, sexy thing. It will take you years of practice to achieve true mastery of the style, but I can teach you the basics. I do, however, wish to get to know my potential student better, so we shall call for a drink and you will honor me with a game."

"Are there no other ways for us to get to know each other?"

Her brown eyes broadened in anticipation, "Do you have…" She beseeched demurely, tasting her own lips, "Something else in mind?"

Ophelia stated indifferently, her tone literal, "We could board your ship. I'd like to see what's below deck."

"_Ooh_, and now you've piqued my interest. It would certainly be rude of me to decline such a…" Isabela paused for a tantalizing effect, "Delicious offer."

Zevran was dumbfounded for a moment, slightly aroused by their repartee. But then, reality occurred to him and he regarded Ophelia apprehensively, "_Hey, hey, hey!_ What about Morrigan?"

"Morrigan?" Ophelia christened as if she didn't know who he was talking about. "What about Morrigan? Morrigan's safe, back at camp," she assured with a careless façade.

"But you are madly in love with her; from the premature foreplays and whispers of sweet unknowns in the light of day," he reminisced with desperate yet dreamy verses and melodramatic gestures, reaching for the cream ceiling, "to the intensified scuffles that lead to and empower your passionate and lustful escapades in the dark of night," he ended with a ball of his ardent fists.

"_Grah!_" Ophelia roared resentfully, "Zevran! C'mon, don't do this to me… You're ruining a perfectly decent prospect here…" She scowled despairingly at Isabela, hoping that she wouldn't change her mind.

"I did not realize that somebody had already claimed you."

And the lightning struck then thundered a flood.

"I have enemies enough and I would like to avoid making more. I do not want to cause offense; let us forget what was said."

"_Gaah!_" She extended her shaky fingers out and clutched the air as Isabela stirred away from the bar, "_Noo~!_"

But Isabela purely sat at a wooden table and beckoned for her to sit, "Now then, a drink, a round of Wicked Grace, else we have no agreement."

"Oh." _Perhaps there was still a chance after all._ She curved her obsidian lips upwards. "Strip Wicked Grace."

"_Haha~!_" Isabela crossed her legs, admiring her determination, "As tempting as your offer sounds… Truly it is unfortunate that you are taken."

"_Tsk tsk._" Ophelia remarked with disdain as she laggardly took her seat, "Zevran, I never once believed you had the aptitude…"

Zevran auspiciously snuffled as he moved by the sidelines, "You may complain all you'd like but you will not regret this, my dear."

"Shall I shuffle the cards or would you like to?" Isabela enquired, handling the cards.

"You," Ophelia dismissed somberly then impartially propped on an elbow.

"Very well…" Isabela shuffled the cards speedily, "There, that should be sufficient…" then she laid them down on their selected places, "Five cards each to start with… And may the cleverest player win." Afterwards, she scrutinized her cards and goaded confidently, "It looks like the deck is being kind to me today."

Ophelia sobbed as she scrutinized her own cards, "The least of my sorrows…"

Then the boring plain card game commenced.

Ophelia solely inspected her, leaning wearily on the table. Oh… But not too late in the drawing and discarding, she revealed with a prolonged yawn, "I saw that…" Isabela simpered when she called her out at her very first endeavor to cheat, "You drew an extra card."

"Oh, wow. You certainly have quick reflexes. I'm quite impressed." The pirate owned up, "And as for me cheating, well, the game does not matter. I just wanted to see if you could outwit me. And you did exceptionally at that." She rose from the table and sauntered near her, planting a serene hand on her shoulder, "You have proven yourself quick and resourceful, and I would be honored to pass my skills on to you," then she sashayed away from the table and directed Ophelia to join her in an empty part of the building, "Come. We will need some space for this."

[-]

_It's not meant to be like this, not what I planned at all,  
>I don't want to feel like this,<br>No it's not meant to be like this, not what I planned at all,  
>I don't want to feel like this, so that makes it all your fault.<em>

[-]

Fifteen minutes of swift demonstration of the basics, another fifteen minutes of careful review, plus thirty minutes of sparring practice, and several forced topples later (which Isabela didn't mind…)

"Well… I didn't expect to learn more from you than you did I. You fight excellent. I personally believe you didn't need my training. I'm beginning to assume you did all that to flaunt your… Exquisite expertise," Isabela commended as soon as they relapsed to the saloon portion of the establishment.

"I didn't plan on it. I was intimidated so…" Ophelia shrugged, "Instincts came naturally. Sorry if I didn't perform what was taught."

Isabela snorted from disbelief, "Intimidated?" then she he inquired peculiarly fascinated, "Is it too much to ask who taught you your graceful art in battle, or did you invent it yourself?"

"I learned the best from my mentor as a child. The rest… I pick up as I go, like you do yourself."

"This is true," Zevran advocated.

"I won't be getting more than that, will I?" Isabela blithely complained, admiring Ophelia up and down with her eyes a final time, "It was a real pleasure meeting you. An honor, to be precise. I hope we meet again very soon."

"The pleasure's mine." Ophelia stretched a hand and shook Isabela's then she hastily inched her head closer and whispered, "And we will."

Zevran interrupted when amber eyes glimmered provocatively, "Okay, Isabela. It's been exciting, as usual... But we must go now." He appropriately partially slipped in between them to detach them.

"It could've been more exciting, I cannot lie…" Isabela asserted then permitted them to take their leave.

As Zevran gripped the door handles to exit, Isabela hollered, "Wait." She caught up with them then rested a hand on a hip, authoritative yet forgiving, "I want my knife back."

Ophelia smirked as she pivoted around and publicized, "I wasn't stealing it." She handed the miniscule dagger but stalled to admit before letting go, "I was testing you," she snuck a wink in.

"_Ha!_ Testing me now?" Isabela quizzed and sheathed the weapon over her derriere then chuckled, "Sure you are. _Sexy thing_..."

"Alright. Enough with the coy looks Isabella. This Warden's off the market," Zevran reprimanded and strove to push Ophelia out the door.

"Yes. What a shame." Isabela shot a lasting gaze of amusement for the reeling Warden, "Take her away before I smuggle her away."

When the heavier entry doors shut with a loud creak, Zevran surveyed humorlessly, "Would you have slept with Isabela, had I not been there?"

"I see you remain particularly perturbed about that," Ophelia rolled her eyes then groaned, "Maybe… Just once or twice…" She glanced at Zevran, "In this vacation."

He twisted a thwarted grimace then proceeded ahead of her.

_Him…? Disappointed about decadent fornication?_

She trailed behind him and protested, "What? Are you my counselor now?"

"No. I am a good and observant friend who can distinguish that you like Morrigan," he attested with tapering eyes, "and Morrigan likes you."

"You can't judge that," she muttered in monotone, "I can't even judge that."

"What precisely happened in the past few days, _hmm_?" he pried sternly, genuinely concerned, "Your seemingly amorous interactions grew less and less in under a condensed period of time."

"_She _grew less and less amorous," Ophelia specified. "And I'm not sure… But I'm getting tired of constantly trying to read her."

Zevran halted and looked at her profoundly, "So you're giving up?"

"I…" Ophelia redirected her sights elsewhere. "I didn't say that…"

[-]

_Inside out, upside-down twisting beside myself,  
>Stop that now; you're as close as it gets without touching me,<br>Oh no, don't make it harder than it already is,  
>I feel a weakness coming on.<em>

[-]

Ophelia plodded along the leveled meadow to revisit Morrigan's camp, her countenance mildly oppressing. The birds were somehow soundless, the wafting wind was cool, and the skies turned gloomy, the setting sun nowhere to be found.

It was the mark of rain coming, reminiscent of the dreading feeling she suppressed in her gut…

Ophelia discovered Morrigan outside of her tent, squatting and lighting a fire. Within arm's reach, Ophelia said, "Dinner at the tavern..." She folded her arms, studious of the sorceress, "You should come, Morrigan."

Morrigan worked mutely, rearranging piles of skinny blocks of wood as she struggled to urge a fire alive. She compulsorily continued, miserably unsociable while she tore strips of paper to help sustain the dissipating bonfire.

The second it persevered its flames and Morrigan got up, Ophelia stepped in front of her and ransacked with a patronizing tone, "Is there a reason why you're downright shunning me now?"

"No. No particular reason," Morrigan verified, her eyes glued to the grass below them.

"Is this how it's going to be for the rest of Denerim?" Ophelia swung her head in a strain to ensnare the stalwart eluding cat eyes, "Maybe even the Blight?"

There was no response.

"You're mad because I won't divulge tangible answers regarding Flemeth's death."

"No. I am not," Morrigan disputed impatiently and fixed her a penetrating glare, "You reserve the right to be secretive and I reserve the right to be solitary. Now leave me be," she lodged a forearm against the lean bicep to relocate the taller Warden.

But Ophelia blocked Morrigan's escape and demanded, "Stop this."

Morrigan sneered as she competed for passage, "No! You stop this!"

"I arranged for this to be a fun mini vacation!" Ophelia justified with a bellow.

Morrigan retorted, "Do not speak as if 'tis not possible without my presence," then she swerved into the opposite direction, resorting to merely turning her back on the blonde woman.

"For all of us, Morrigan!"

"Leave me be, and I'll be happy," Morrigan uttered calmly, "'Tis all I need."

Ophelia droned, "No, you won't be…" She reposed a hand on a fair-skinned shoulder.

"The only way I won't be," Morrigan swiped her hand off and accused, "is if you won't let me."

"Why do you have to be so darn difficult?" Ophelia's cold gray eyes unstiffened, pleading for reconsideration.

"Go have your fun," Morrigan commanded, walking past the rogue, "Leave me out of it."

"Fine."

[-]

"No Morrigan?" Zevran queried, a tad dissatisfied.

"No. She doesn't want to socialize…" Ophelia confirmed neutrally, to which Nutella whined sadly.

"Maybe she's not feeling well," Wynne proposed.

"Who cares…" Ophelia abolished effortlessly, stretching her neck to loosen up, "Forget her. Let's enjoy the night." She progressed onwards, a cue for them to follow. "Oghren!" she ran up to the sluggish dwarf, patting a hand then resting an elbow on the miniature man's shoulder while they ambled beside each other, "What do you say to… A drinking tournament?" she solicited enticingly.

"You can keep trying, woman!" Oghren grumbled with exuberance, "Just keep showing me that six-pack of yours! _Hehe!_"

Ophelia cooed, "But Oghren... I don't have a six-pack…" then she broadcasted vociferously, "I have a whopping eight-pack! It will destroy your manhood!"

"WHAT?" Oghren growled croakily, "Naw! You're yanking my beard!"

[-]

_It's not meant to be like this, not what I planned at all,  
>I don't want to feel like this, yeah,<br>No it's not meant to be like this, not what I planned at all,  
>I don't want to feel like this, so that makes it all your fault.<em>

[-]

Hours in their festive supper at the Gnawed Noble Tavern, Ophelia secretly skedaddled away and backtracked to the Pearl alone. She semi-slurred her questions for Isabela's first mate, grabbing his collar while purring for information of her whereabouts.

Determining her location to be in the Siren's Call, Ophelia tipsily wandered in the streets as drizzle began to shower softly on her.

Gradually, the humongous vessel that matched her description appeared in her view, a number of its windows open and dimly lit. She advanced towards the visible side and jumped from the dock to latch herself on an anchor's chains. Choosing the best window to slip into, she then climbed and cleverly maneuvered her path to safely infiltrate the boat undetected.

Once inside, she slithered stealthily from room to room, pursuing Isabela. Conclusively pinning for the largest and secured cabin, she nimbly lock-picked it and barged in gracefully, the metal hinges emitting a squeaking sound that startled Isabela.

_Big trouble losing control,  
>Primary resistance at a critical low,<br>On the double, gotta get a hold,  
>Point of no return one second to go.<em>

"I came to return this to you…" Ophelia conceded by the door, lackadaisically holding up a thin bracelet as Isabela drew her blades.

"How did you…" Isabela retracted her weapons and gawped at her, stunned but otherwise merry.

Ophelia spontaneously accelerated forward, her hands conquering her bountiful buttocks without warning while she eyed her, predatorily smitten.

"_My…_ Well that explains it," Isabela hummed a salaciously mesmerizing melody by her ear, "You have the quickest fingers and the gentlest yet firmest grip."

Ophelia swished the jewelry by her face teasingly then dropped it to glide down her cleavage, "You dangle with tons of accessories. It wasn't that challenging to pluck one off without notice." She coaxed with a stronger grip on her behind, "So… How about a game of Strip Wicked Grace, huh? _The lengthy version_…"

"And… What about your _lover_?" Isabela reminded her, tentatively .

"I don't have one," Ophelia decreed austerely then inspired lasciviously, "And even if I did… Wouldn't this be _more thrilling_?"

"_Hmph._ You're right. And I can't exactly bring myself to…" Isabela succumbed, fiddling with her fingers and sketching a wavy line on the damp tan collarbone, "Deny you for the second time." With a brash smack of her lips, she suddenly spun then shoved Ophelia down on a deluxe armchair, "Sit here…"

Ophelia leered irrepressibly as the Riviani moseyed away and ostentatiously arranged two mixed drinks at a dresser across of her. She lounged comfortably, settling her boots up on the narrow gaming table as she waited for her liquor.

Recognizing the untidiness of the surroundings, she critiqued, "Your ship could use a lot of cleaning."

"I'm sorry," Isabela peeped at her fleetingly, mockingly concerned, "Does it bother you?"

"No." Ophelia refuted languidly, "I thought I could help clean it at another time. Cleanliness is sophistication of its own. To have this amount of impressive décor but so poor a background…"

"Clean?" Isabela grunted with minor disdain then giggled, "Screw cleaning. I would much rather have you at my helm. I can promise then that you will grow acquainted to the ship's wild uninhibitedness…" she persuaded, finishing their drinks.

"_Hmm…_ Sailing above the deck does sound fun. Although, I reckon I would do a poor job at steering," Ophelia leisurely sat upright, removing her feet off the tabletop in eagerness to accept the delivered drink.

"The ship is the best teacher." The bodacious buccaneer slinked attractively towards the blonde rogue, her hips swinging in tandem with each step as she recited seductively, "She will guide you with her sighs..." she prowled behind her, making sure their arms and upper body made significant contact as she illustrated verbally by her neck, "Her shudders, her gentle swaying as she rides the crests of the waves…"

"Ah… I do learn best with _close _guidance," Ophelia certified, clinching the wine glass exhibited for her.

Then Isabela plopped in her own armchair and asked with a gracious upraise of a shapely eyebrow, "Shall we begin?"

"I'll shuffle this time," Ophelia volunteered.

Then the naughty sensual card game commenced.

Bandanas…

Earrings…

Rings…

Necklaces…

Bracelets…

Bindings…

Thigh high boots…

Ophelia studied her intently as her copious adornments and scanty clothing articles plummeted to the timber floorboards with thuds and clinks, one by one. She was winning and it was dragging on excruciatingly long. If she was losing, it would only take four or five rounds for Isabela to win; given her typical minimal outfit of a cream loose tunic, phantom leather pants, charcoal buckled belt, and lightweight anthracite boots.

"You're losing on purpose," she blurted out from edginess then laid down another winning card.

"So I am…" Isabela answered, undoing the strings of her chemise, "Is it a problem?"

"No… But you could've just worn less clothing before we began." After Isabela peeled the garment off with a titter, Ophelia jested, "At least you don't wear a bra."

"If you are dying from the anticipation," Isabela goaded, drawing near her then brusquely straddling her hips, "perhaps _you_ should've attempted to lose on purpose." She cupped the nape of Ophelia's neck as the scoundrel, in turn, cupped her bare breasts. Then onyx met mocha for a deep kiss, their heads angling in competency.

Ophelia sunk in her seat, her right hand traveling upwards to immerse in rich ebony hair and her left traveling downwards to immerse in the warmth pressing against her pelvis.

Isabela groaned as the seeking hand felt her through her moist panties. She briefly withdrew, pinning Ophelia against the chair. They beheld each other attentively, Ophelia analyzing her as she reached for the ring-necklace.

"Don't. It's nothing special," Ophelia ordered, politely swatting her hand away then forcibly standing to quickly transport her to a hefty bed.

Isabela lifted her legs up, concurred for the last undergarment to be pulled off, then keenly spread her legs wide open, welcoming Ophelia to claim her prize, "_Hmm..._ Come here, you..."

Ophelia crawled on top of her and leant down to kiss her again, her fingers roving all over the reclined torso. When she broke off from the kiss to breathe and Isabela moaned when she touched her heat, an earsplitting crash resounded in the cabin.

She veered her head around from shock as a frenzied raven had exerted itself to recklessly fly out the window and collided with a wine glass instead.

"I… I just remembered something…" she mumbled suddenly as the bird fled.

"Come again?" Isabela expressed in petty frustration.

"I'm sorry. I have to leave," Ophelia disconnected without hesitation, urgently sprinting toward the window then leaping out of it.

"_WHAT?_"

She faltered on the dock when she landed, but instantaneously stabilized her composure and rushed for the crow soaring away from her, the rain pouring heavily enough that it slowed the airborne creature.

[-]

_No response on any level, red alert this vessel's under siege,  
>Total overload, systems down, they've got control,<br>There's no way out, we are surrounded,  
>Give in, give in, and relish every minute of it.<em>

[-]

Thunder deafened the thick forest, drowning out every other sound: the crunching of leaves against searching feet, the bucketing volley of rain… But not Ophelia's distressed voice as she christened with an indomitable shout: "Morrigan!"

"I know you're here somewhere!" she whirled around worthlessly, endeavoring to find Morrigan in, around, or high up in the trees. "Morrigan!"

The storm's noise made it impossible for her to perceive her position through hearing but the lightning made it possible to perceive through seeing.

She professed in between exhausted pants: "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"But honestly..."

"I'm glad you reacted the way you did."

"Now I'm certain..."

"That you feel the same way."

She clenched her fists over her knees and gathered her breath. "Please... Show yourself."

"You're mistaken." Morrigan's voice resonated somewhere.

"Huh?" Ophelia's weary eyeballs rotated in every direction, perusing the woods.

"You're mistaken. I do not _feel_ the same way," Morrigan projected coherently with her voice then exposed herself, poised on a high tree branch, "Whatever I feel right now is... Not how I would feel in general."

"Don't lie to yourself, Morrigan…" Ophelia bordered the tree she was on and bidden to mount it. "How you act and behave..." She hooked unto grooves and curves, fearless of the splinters she could receive. "Is far more genuine than how you speak..."

"To leave the ring whilst killing Flemeth… And whilst not your wanton ambitions…" The rain trickling down her troubled visage obliterated any chance of distinguishing tears. "You…" She swallowed then snapped, "You provoked me on purpose!"

"I…" Ophelia got ahold of the branch she was on but the shapeshifter briskly floated to another tree before they could interact face to face. "I guess I did. I'm sorry," Ophelia disclosed sorrowfully.

"You are nothing but an immature and whorish pig!" Morrigan spat scornfully.

"I'm sorry..." Ophelia begged, the creases on her forehead a small proof of her remorse, "It will never happen again, I swear. I really just craved for your attention..."

Morrigan disregarded her and reluctantly deviated around to distance herself once more.

"Morrigan! I can change!" Out of panic, Ophelia vaulted from her spot and unto Morrigan's. She barely grappled the branch and pushed herself up as the sorceress drifted again to another tree; this time, two trees ahead of her.

Scrunching her eyes shut and grunting helplessly, Ophelia mustered her strength then sprang to the first tree successfully.

But her vigor and weight encumbered the branch and it fractured.

Morrigan gasped as Ophelia plunged below, the fall rendering a compact thump.

Guilt-stricken, the witch went down and loomed worriedly over the prone form. "Ophelia?" she called, crouching and stroking the idle face.

Ophelia grumbled painfully then flickered her eyes to unseal. Her fatigued platinum eyes riveted on Morrigan's softened golden ones while she stretched a hand to caress the fraught face. "You're stunningly beautiful," she comforted.

"What is it that you wish to gain from me, besides my assistance? I cannot offer you ample reward for everything you've done," Morrigan replied tetchily, getting straight to the basis of her unease.

Flabbergasted, Ophelia just gawked at her for several seconds. "I simply want your company..." she quietly reasoned as much as she could conceive, "It's not something I can describe. But with you… Strangely…" She delayed, wallowing in the flow of raindrops that Morrigan passed unto her, "I feel transcendent. Even when you're angry... Just so long as you're near."

"You–!" Morrigan insulted out of exasperation, "What a _pathetic_ excuse!" then her voice cracked faintly, inconsolable, "_Why…?_"

Unable to explicate further, Ophelia hauled her downwards and let her lips and tongue do the elucidating, droplets of water intensifying the taste and feel of the sensory massage.

What started as a message of tender tongues sharply led to an unbuttoning and eventual ripping of sheer and drenched long sleeves – Morrigan heatedly disrobing Ophelia. Consequently, Ophelia couldn't stay too submissive, so she tore Morrigan's skimpy top and assailed her milky bosom with her famished mouth.

Their passions increasing as torrid as the cold torrent of rain – in due course, they rose up and fully undressed, kissing and touching harshly as they stirred through the jungle and abandoned their belongings.

"_Mmm–AAHH!_" Morrigan yelped and braced herself as Ophelia bent her leg upwards and fervently ravaged her against a tree, the rapt mouth concentrated in providing her rapture. "_Ophe~lia––! _I'm…"

Ophelia brought her head up to hear her plea, "_Morrigan_…" She assembled Morrigan's untied wet jet black tresses then dipped her fingers in and out of her core relentlessly.

Morrigan clawed Ophelia's rear, heaving her closer as she allowed all her moans to escape, utterly engulfed in the overwhelming ecstasy.

_This… Boundless desire… It felt so good… Why did it feel so good?_

When her liquid lust gushed out of her and she whimpered in full power, Ophelia cradled her body while she convulsed out of control.

_It wasn't just superficial unembellished sex. There was nothing like it…_

Ophelia embraced her and smiled contentedly as she rode the lingering billows of her reverie, Morrigan huffing raggedly on her neck and unlaced flaxen mane.

The gratified Warden relaxed and gazed blankly towards the perspective of trees, a sparse fog blurring the scene.

But then, shadows of bipedal shapes emerged from the expanse and she cringed from a pang of fright.

_Shit… Did they hear them?_

Ophelia released Morrigan, "Go…" She instructed resolutely, "Shapeshift and go…"

"Wh… What?" Morrigan stuttered, staggered by the order.

Ophelia's hawk eyes were adhered to the haze. "They're coming… Go."

Morrigan skewed her head to check what she saw.

"I'll be okay," Ophelia guaranteed with a dauntless and protective demeanor.

Then Morrigan directly complied, vanishing into the trees' shelter as a bird.

Thereupon, Ophelia made an effort to map where they derived from, scanning for her singular dagger at the very least.

Though, her hastened exertion was futile; the shapes were now bandits that surrounded her, wolfishly whistling and drooling over her the moment they arrived. She purely stared at them austerely, oblivious to the humiliation from being absolutely nude.

_Three archers. Four fighters. And one leader._

"Hey…" the foremost man addressed and encircled her, blatantly ogling her lecherously, "What's a pretty little girl like you doing alone in here?" then he snickered repulsively, the stench of his breath adding to his failure of arousing her, "Were you the one making all that lewd moaning?"

"Yes. It was me," Ophelia bluffed without a sweat, her tone inviting, "I was… _Lonely._"

"_Haha_. Rea~lly?" he grumbled. The grisly leader and his companions eyed each other curiously before they sniggered wickedly. "You don't sound like the type of woman who squeals," he mused, intimidatingly situating a hand on the hilt of his ax by his hip.

"Why? Would you honestly look elsewhere when you have a perfectly bare naked woman in front of you, waiting for solace?" She lured, fondling her own breasts despondently.

"Boss. This bitch doesn't look that skilled," one of his followers commented.

"Yea. Just shut her up," another one chimed in.

But the boss was a little skeptical. "You're an awfully easy woman…" he quizzed, his face contorting oddly, "Are you planning something?"

She grinned devilishly like a succubus expecting her prey, "I'm a nude and defenseless woman trapped within a gang of leering bandits, what can I possibly do to hurt all of you?" Her hands outstretched openly as she gibed, "If you have the balls, come have at it."

The horrendous-looking men laughed mockingly at first then they closed in on her voraciously.

Their leader thrust a forceful hand on her and she flopped down on the muddy foliage, her lips tightly locked as the superior bandit imposed over her and unbuckled his trousers. Rifling through his unzipped pants, he brandished his stiffened shaft then lowered it in between her breasts.

While the bandit rode her chest, Ophelia retained her composed expression, wondering when the storm would cease. Her thoughts were disrupted as the man on top of her shifted higher, motioning to put it in her mouth.

Then… A chain of lightning came crashing down, hitting the bystanders. Their leader became alarmed as the crackling electricity skipped through each one of them then him. He intuitively grasped for his ax before the agony paralyzed, but Ophelia kicked him and he staggered backwards.

One of his allies charged unto her with a thrust of his sword, so she permitted the shot then dodged it with a slight twirl, catching his wrist, twisting it, and stealing his blade at one fell swoop. The perplexed thug was speechless as the sword he then-wielded impaled his neck then he collapsed.

The leader and another man shrieked their war cries then attacked her. She evaded them with reflexive twists, turns, and parries. She orbited around them while she sliced their unarmored flesh as much as she could, inclining the weighty sword against their progressing limbs; the nimble cuts ultimately disabling them. Subsequent to a murderous giggle, the steel's gleam blinded before it beheaded them within a split-second.

Morrigan terminated the thunderous lightning bolts streaming from her fingers when Ophelia advanced on her screeching prisoners. The Grey Warden equipped two daggers she plundered then dexterously pierced vital points in their weakened bodies like she was merely picking on ice.

When the last bandit was slain, Morrigan bawled furiously, "WAS THE CRACK IN YOUR SKULL THAT SEVERE?" she approached Ophelia and held her head with both hands, wrapping the blonde hair around her fingers and tugging her head from forlorn anguish, "What in blasted damnation was that pointless performance?"

"I trusted you fully and I was right to trust you fully," Ophelia interlaced her fingers with hers and questioned with a heartwarming mien, "Will you condemn me for that?"

"_N-no_… But...!" Morrigan admonished less angrily, "Quit this foolish carelessness! I am well-aware that you are more than capable of ridding these filthy outlaws, devoid of risky pretense!"

Ophelia didn't say anything and just captivated her with her silence and vigilant eyes, the flushed roseate lips capturing hers at once.

_Freeze, awake here forever, I feel a weakness coming on._

They relished in the prolonged and unfathomable kiss, entangling their arms in the loving clinch.

Ophelia almost wept when Morrigan unexpectedly retreated and whispered, "I… I wish to know… Your opinion of _love_."

She continued between hopelessly flustered breaths and glimpses of Ophelia and the rosewood ring…

"I feel… I feel anxious when I look upon you…"

"I dislike this sense of dependency."

"'Tis a weakness I abhor!"

_It's not meant to be like this, not what I planned at all,  
>I don't want to feel like this, Yeah,<br>No it's not meant to be like this, it's just what I don't need,  
>Why make me feel like this, it's definitely all your fault.<em>

"If this is _love_…" she finalized, looking at Ophelia contritely, "I wish to ascertain that you do not feel the same."

"And if I do love you?"

"Then… We are both fools, and we need to do something immediately." Morrigan nudged for freedom but Ophelia hung on. Morrigan lopsided her head to a side and avoided eye contact. "I have allowed myself to become… Too close. This is a weakness… For us both…" she gritted her teeth, her lips and fingers trembling delicately because of the chilly rain and her erratically pulsating heart.

Ophelia coerced truthfully, "Love is not a weakness. And you cannot command it to disappear," she hugged Morrigan tighter when she became tense, tucking the dark head underneath her chin, "Everyone needs some type of affection. We need to feel valuable. Or else… Life is damnation and nothing matters."

"You… You are not listening to me. Do not be such a fool!" Morrigan beat a fist on her ribcage and nearly sobbed, "This is for your own good. I would not… I am not like other women. I am not worth your distraction. And you… You are not worth mine…"

Ophelia forced Morrigan to fasten their eyes together – stubborn and veiled ardency versus hypnotizing and presumptuous adulation. "You are every bit worth my distraction," she proclaimed unequivocally.

"I… You are impossible…!" Their noses touched and Ophelia wiped the surfacing tears while Morrigan disheartened in counterfeit, "You… You will regret it in the end," then she surrendered for another kiss.

_She knew she shouldn't… But it was too difficult and unbearable._

_The Blight… Her task… _

_She had to stop…_

[-]

_Feel like this,  
>It's all your fault.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"The Walk" by Imogen Heap

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for Doubt<strong>

**Sagnus**: 5 doesn't necessarily mean perfection on my scaling. Just hecka entertaining. And exactly... While this is a fun hobby and a form of free entertainment for some of you... Reviews can be a really good form of saying thanks from the readers. Thanks for reviewing again and rating! :)

**Andy Lewis**: Fair enough. Thanks for reviewing! :D

**Dalish Elf**: YES! I think I did get it from that and subconsciously typed it without knowing. And I'm really bad... I checked the endings for ME3. I must say... Wow. BioWare's really good at making catastrophic endings. But I heard there's a possibility it's a fake end. I might play it sometime when I'm in the mood. I actually thought of a DA/ME crossover that's quite funny but I don't know if I'll write about it. xD

**qweenseeker**: Well aren't you generous? Thanks! :)

**Meirouki**: Great! I got a new reviewer! And lost some again... I suppose. Lol. Thanks for reviewing and rating! I'm really glad it's all a 5 for you.

Thanks for reviewing everyone! Review again please.

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><p>AN: Long chapter. Good enough for the wait, I hope. The thing is... I know what to write. I think I'm just getting bored because every time I have the chance to write, I go on YouTube and watch a ton of Ellen videos instead. LOL. So you fokers better start reviewing if you wanna inspire me. XD

Please check my deviantART. **I have a piece of art and writing concerning Ophelia's mentor** where you will also find out her name. So check that out...

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**ATTENTION**: (**_vileniaveladorn_**,**_ ScOut4It_**,**_ Arf-Arf-Psycho_**,**_ mylovelyminion_**,** Gemini1179**,**_ AlexisBlade_**,** Rin Ryosuke**,** FifthFreedom**,** Moral Attention**,** SirRealism**, whiskered oranges, Silentragnarok, Chaoskadda, Dathora, doesntknow, Erzsebeth, Ledilettant, LycanRed, Nightbrainzz, Nimitar, NoAng3l, Ushiromae, Cambia Forma, Darksnow4, Falch1ca, KitsuneSetsuna, matthew0208, Rashomoun, and sunfire130.)

First of all, thanks for taking interest in my writing and either reviewing, putting it on alert, or favoriting it.

But please say something once in a while if any of you are still reading. Now would be great, thanks. Especially the ones in bold! And if also in italics... It means it's been a while and I really foking miss you! Since I know you reviewed before... I hate losing readers...

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

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3 - Good (But can be better.)

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1 - Redo Everything Bitch

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	11. Chapter 11 Coup de Grâce

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_Minor Edit: April 1st, 2014_

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><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 11 - <strong>Coup de Grâce<strong>

* * *

><p>[V] <strong>Eupnea <strong>[V]

Against the nape of her neck were delicate wafts, the warmth paced by breath. Against her rib was a recurring inflation, the pressure depressed by respiration. Against her lax shoulder blade was a rhythmic pulse, the beat pumped by life.

Morrigan stirred as she gently awakened with a slender toned arm lazily tucked in between her arm and stomach, a pleasing scent drifting toward her nostrils. Shivering slightly from the cold of dawn, she pulled the blanket she shared and draped it around her torso better.

It was already morning, a desaturated yet vibrant glow slipping into her tent and soothing her sentiments. The storm had finally passed and her unease had finally ceased.

She froze for several synchronized heartbeats, pondering on her position – amorously fastened with Ophelia. It would've been a foolish act to partake in, had she never gone on this journey with her and endorsed herself to be indulged. She would've easily dismissed it as unnecessary touching.

But if someone were to remind her now...

"Hey…" Ophelia suddenly interlaced her fingers with Morrigan's, burying her nostrils in the depths of her dark hair and cradling her body cozier into a fused quotation mark. "Go back to sleep," her lips cooed to an ear lobe.

Morrigan gasped from modest surprise, her hair follicles sensing the patented smirk take shape. Intrigued, she tilted her chin enough to spectate on its charm.

The rascal was positively delighted and inched in for a peck on the lips. The witch had slapped the widening smirk away innumerable times for stolen smackers in the past – but now she inched in for another – preferring to kiss it away instead as the blonde shifted for her convenience.

In the centimeter within their separation, she reveled in Ophelia's unyielding smile and established it as the first trait she adored about her.

_That ambrosial smile which was sometimes adorned with hidden mischievous intent but always assured comfort and security._

[IV] **Cognomen **[IV]

The sun was bright, the table with food was set, and the invited pirate was incoming.

"Isabela! What a pleasant surprise! You're looking super saucy this morni–––!"

The slap echoed faster than Ophelia could think sex and she reeled back a tad on her seat.

"_Ooowh!_" Zevran added for dramatic effect, contorting his facial muscles exaggeratedly as he winced behind Isabela.

"_Hmph._ That's for using me and making me look like a susceptible fool," Isabela pushed the grinning mischief lightheartedly before joining her on the bench while keeping moderate distance, "But... Zevran told me everything. Congratulations on strengthening the relationship with your lady..." She approved with a curt nod then helped herself with a breadstick on the table, licking it enticingly before biting.

Noticing the quizzical (and/or repulsed) faces from the rest of the members on the table, Ophelia introduced, "This is Isabela," then she introduced her whole party to Isabela, with Oghren leering at the Riviani the entire time. "And yes. Thank you for your assistance..." She regarded Isabela with a favorable façade, "Don't feel ashamed... Your body is extremely voluptuous. I would've vigorously boarded that succulent vessel if the wine glass hadn't shattered."

"_Is that so_?"

"Morrigan!"

"Why is there a filthy slattern on the table?" Morrigan articulated condescendingly as she propped on the other side of Ophelia, referring to Isabela but not sparing a glance.

"_Ah! _So you're Morrigan," Isabela leaned on an elbow and brazenly stared the shunning sorceress down, "Look here bitchy tits, I didn't ask for your precious girlfriend to touch me. She did so at her own accord. And to lure you, it seems," she simplified with a mockingly courteous tone, her valor rendering shapely o-lips in the breakfast gathering.

"_Tsk tsk_. And there is the riposte of shame. Perhaps if your womanhood didn't reek of rotten fish, you could have had a better chance at keeping her attention," Morrigan countered, apathetically pouring a cup of tea.

"_Ooh_, that was almost an ouch – if Ophelia hadn't just admitted she was willing to board my vessel if you hadn't dumbly flew into that wine glass," Isabela dipped in closer, Ophelia gladly bending backwards out of her way. "Or did you fail to recall, miss highbrow?"

"_Haha~! _Aren't you the most gullible fool to so easily believe in such pointless flattery," Morrigan flashed her a derisive beam, "I suppose it is a prerequisite that comes with hideous-looking whores," then she sipped her tea leisurely.

"If I may have a word," Ophelia butted in when Isabela couldn't compose a witty comeback in an instant, "We should have a threesome."

"Rethinking that pointless flattery retort yet, bitchy tits?"

Morrigan pounded her mug down then glowered at Ophelia with the power of a thousand suns, "Who's side are you on?"

"Nobody," Ophelia shrugged, "I like this catfight. Keep going!"

"Such a dark form of entertainment…" Zevran chuckled with Ophelia, "But yes. I concur."

Starting with Alistair, the rest of the party chuckled in agreement as Morrigan's grimace hardened.

Morrigan calmly baptized Isabela with fanciful notes to her voice, "_You~_ are a _filth~y _slattern," then she twisted to narrow her cat eyes at Ophelia, "And _you~ _shall not be anywhere near me tonight." She feigned a brief unaffected show and snatched her drink semi-angrily before she stood.

But Ophelia hauled her down forcefully, "C'mon Morrigan. You'll let Isabela win this?" The temptress landed partly on her lap and she consoled her, setting her blonde head against her shoulder, "Essentially, she helped us reconcile, you know…"

Morrigan rolled her eyes and scoffed nasally but allowed the cajoler to hold her in the lovey-dovey fashion.

"_Hehe._ She's feisty... You must really enjoy bedding her," Isabela noted with licentious lips.

"You have no idea," Morrigan responded irksomely, pounding her mug down the table again.

Isabela slipped a fingertip in between her teeth to look coy, "Is it silly of me that I actually look forward to that threesome?"

"Of course not," Ophelia asserted speedily.

"Touch either of us and I will _excoriate_ _you_," Morrigan simultaneously denounced with a warning.

"She really means excoriate your outfit," Ophelia distinguished with a wink.

"_Mmm~_ Kinky..."

"Why do you torment me so?" Morrigan solidly bopped her on the head, "If you wish to gamble, know that I am not apt for another reconciliation!" she threatened, returning to her seat on the bench tetchily.

"Oh, that gives me an idea. How about we gamble our clothes in a three-way strip Wicked Grace, _hmm?_" Ophelia coaxed, clinging on Morrigan's waist romantically with one arm.

"Ah, I can already picture it... From fear of being ganged by a naughty pirate and impish rogue, Morrigan would no doubt devour all the cards. Then once she realizes the tantalizing appeal of a threesome, she would eventually invite Isabela and devour her as well," Zevran advocated whimsically with scrumptiously uplifting brows.

Isabela and Ophelia laughed while Morrigan fumed silently.

"Too much… To handle…" Oghren passed out on the table.

"Oh, dear Maker… My breakfast is wasted…" Wynne complained to herself to which Sten gestured for a claim on her food.

"Ugh. 'Tis insufferable…" Morrigan sunk on the table, palms despondently on her forehead, "Shoot me with an arrow Leliana."

"_No~!_ Ophelia would be crestfallen," Leliana giggled amusingly.

"_Aww_, Morrigan. Don't be a curmudgeon bludgeon," Ophelia teased in encouragement, playfully stroking Morrigan's bare back.

Morrigan bent her head upwards and observed her disbelievingly, "Was that a… _Sobriquet?_"

"Yes, my mean queen…"

"_Aww_…" Isabela chimed in while Morrigan remained dumbstruck.

"Foxy doxy…"

"I am not a doxy!" Morrigan objected with a scornful mien and cruel swiping of Ophelia's fondling hands.

"_Aww_… Look she's blushing," Leliana pointed out.

"Snooty beauty?"

"_No!_" Morrigan moaned plaintively.

"Look at those cheeks! She's utterly red-faced," Alistair publicized with glee.

"Fruity beauty…"

"_NO!_ Just…" Morrigan whacked her cantankerously, "Just shut up Ophelia!"

"_Aww_… Don't be a _so~rry_ _Mo~rri~_," Ophelia appealed with a scowl, nimbly parrying her strikes, "You must like one sobriquet. Admit it," she grabbed ahold of her wrists then persuaded with a childish look, "Tell me."

Morrigan sighed in defeat, "Only one." When Ophelia quirked a brow, she proclaimed, "The one you screamed in a protraction last night."

"Err…" Ophelia tried to remember then resounded erotically, "_Moooo~riiii~gaaahhhn_…?" she imitated shamelessly.

Morrigan snickered amicably, "Yes." _The answer was supposed to be nothing._ "That one."

"_Errhhmm_… If we could-uhm… Go back to eating now. That would be great," Alistair awkwardly reverted his attention to his meal, erasing the mental image of Ophelia whimpering.

"Well… You two are absolutely adorable," Isabela complimented while the most went back to their morning feast with some tittering.

"No threesome. You are mine alone," Morrigan ascertained to a blissful Ophelia then they ogled each other sweetly, the crooks of their lips curving upwards.

In that fleeting moment their eyes were trapped in a juvenile cage, Morrigan established her stunning diamond eyes to be the second trait she adored about her.

_Those eyes which were sometimes adorned with a maddening sense of humor but always kept a mysterious and austere magnetism._

[III] **Promenade **[III]

True to her word, Ophelia properly coerced Morrigan into the fancy makeover Leliana and Zevran had planned with her. The enchantress was tentative to the trivial idea at first, but agreed nonetheless as partial payment for everything Ophelia had secretly done for her. The Grey Warden unquestionably earned more than this small favor she asked for, but it was the little she desired to be glad.

Ophelia, Leliana, and Zevran had collected the appropriate outfit and cosmetic supplies for Morrigan prior to their titivating experiment (with the benefit of Ophelia's painstaking measurements research) then decided to perform the transformation in an estate a noble friend of the Couslands owned.

Concluding Morrigan's maquillage, the duteous helper signaled for her it was done, gave her a short-lived gawp (to which Morrigan glared,) then quickly got up and excused herself out of the lavish room.

The trio of rogues lounged on a large sofa, chatting away when Morrigan rose from her throne and slowly faced them apathetically.

The femme fatale exhibited a semi-nude, phantom tulle dress embroidered with tenebrous flowers. A vertical slit from the crux of her clavicles down to her waist exposed a generous amount of her cleavage, a design specifically similar to her usual skimpy top. The fabric below her waist flowed freely down her legs, its almost transparent texture consenting an extravagant display of her long legs for blessed spectators. Her dark hair was kept naturally wavy, the tasteful tresses accentuating her haughtily detached provocativeness. She watched them through yellow eyes, a modest shade of cerise emphasizing her opulence. Her plum-stained lips refrained from moving, highlighting her taciturn contemptuous aura.

"Dear Andraste… Morrigan… You look so beautiful!" Leliana sat rigid in her seat and exclaimed, her sapphires sparkling with captivation.

"Yes, what a beauty so exotic… It could rouse many countries to war," Zevran praised in inveiglement, "Morrigan, my dear, this is how you should dress for the rest of our journey."

Ophelia scrutinized her form, genuinely fascinated and fulfilled, "Only the Maker could craft a more perfect creature," she then ambled to her and beckoned her to come to a humungous wall mirror.

"Hmph. You should all know better by now. Such flattery is meaningless to me," Morrigan admonished then followed her.

"Can't you say 'thank you,' for once? You look… So sensual… So elegant… So deific… Yet so dramatically dangerous…" Ophelia permitted her to admire her own reflection then she snuck behind her and snaked an arm over her stomach. "Your moodily enchanting appearance alone can impregnate me."

Chortles from Zevran and Leliana could be heard from the back as Morrigan terminated the exalting commendations, "That makes no sense. You've been spending too much time with Alistair."

"Don't take it literally. It simply means you look downright sexy." Ophelia settled her chin on Morrigan's shoulder and boldly leered at her on the mirror.

"'Twill never end with you, will it?"

"Nope," she debated friskily, "Quit acting like you didn't enjoy primping yourself up... If I could look half as good as you right now… We should get married."

"Tie myself to you with bonds of servitude? It serves no purpose," Morrigan contemplated with a cross of her arms.

"Just for monogamous sex. You do somewhat agree with monogamy, don't you? Not wishing to partake in a threesome with Isabela…" Ophelia slanted an eyebrow inquisitively. "And our servants can do everything we want them to. So no baking the bread for either of us... Although we can do it for fun, if you'd like..." she appealed, frolicking with the floral decorations of her gown.

Morrigan snorted inwardly, "You've already thought this through, I see..."

"What can I say? You enthrall my thoughts completely…" Ophelia whispered winsomely, "Like your eager mouth to mine... Like my tongue on your deliciously engorged nub... Like your adhering limbs around my body..." then she buried her stygian lips past ebony tresses then lasciviously defined against a creamy earlobe, "And like your constricting vaginal walls to my curved fingers..."

"Such a lovely and eloquent poet you are. No wonder I was so powerless and couldn't resist," Morrigan giggled salaciously, undeniably aroused by the vivid verses.

"I do try..." Ophelia disconnected from her but claimed a hand, "We should dance…"

Morrigan's eyes broadened in query, "Dance?"

"Ooh yes! Dance!" Leliana clapped enthusiastically for inspiration.

"Yea. Such a striking woman in a gown should flaunt herself in a dance," Ophelia dragged Morrigan across the ceramic tiled floor, their moseying figures mimicked as silhouettes on its pristine surface. "I'll teach you how."

"_Ah!_ I have a remarkable idea!" Zevran hastily got on his feet and proposed while walking towards the exit, "I shall get the quiet painter from outside and the fiddler from the tavern," he winked by the doorway.

"_Haha~_ Yes. An excellent idea," Ophelia approved with a bob of her head.

"Only for the two most gorgeous women in Thedas!" he specified then departed hurriedly.

"You're thoroughly enjoying this, aren't you?" Morrigan questioned while Ophelia positioned their arms together and around each other.

"Yes," the blonde disclosed with an alluring beam, "More than anything, as of late."

Ophelia began to instruct her, guiding her steadily through the dance floor while Leliana hummed a song for a gala. The blinding illumination of the sun stretched the shadow from an enormous window, embellishing their swaying scene with a wonderful atmosphere.

During the moments she didn't gaze at her feet, Morrigan gazed at Ophelia and established her agile body to be the third trait she adored about her.

_That vigorous yet slender build and marginally taller height, she had impressive supremacy but preserved her humbleness; dominative yet also tolerant of submissiveness._

[II] **Offshoot **[II]

Night fell with the mood of their camp less engaging. Leliana, Zevran, and Alistair in particular had sour encounters with their old mentor, assassin group, and estranged sister respectively, and communicated little about it, finding solace in their privacy instead.

"You allowed her to live..." Morrigan voiced to an arriving Ophelia after she had pacified Leliana and the bard had unhappily sunk in her tent.

"Marjolaine?" Ophelia made clear then propped on a stool in front of the mage who ignited their bonfire.

Morrigan was present in the reunion where more of Leliana's past was divulged. Their interaction with the red head and her mentor were limited but they both could sympathize with her position, holding their own sentiments on the matter.

"I wonder... Why do such a foolish thing? The woman is somewhat like Flemeth. She will hunt the bard down until she attains what she wants," Morrigan elucidated, not exactly concerned.

"I saw it in Leliana's eyes..." Ophelia undid her gauntlets and warranted, "She did not want her dead."

"So you took that inkling and chose not to kill the woman?" Morrigan arched her posture and inclined closer to Ophelia, examining her diligently with an elbow on her lap and a hand to hold her face.

"I slayed Flemeth as you wished and conversely as Leliana _truly _wished, I chose not slay her mentor," Ophelia continued stripping her armor, a minor difficulty with her breastplate slackening her.

"Not that I can be bothered to care..." Morrigan edged in and aided her with the stubborn straps, "But you realize what you did–"

"Leliana can take care of herself," Ophelia interjected then removed her breastplate, putting it by her feet. "Not everyone wants to kill their treacherous teachers, Morrigan," she reasoned with significance.

"If you share the same viewpoints as Leliana..." Morrigan prodded, "Why did you kill my mother without much insight?"

"I wanted to impress you."

"Impress me?"

"I wanted to be your knight in shining armor," Ophelia smiled smugly.

"Do not mock me," Morrigan pouted disdainfully, her eyes falling astray on the dirt ground. "You and Leliana had often been on the same page," she hesitantly perceived.

"We have. Is that what this is all about?"

"Wasn't I a nuisance, antagonizing you often?" She reclaimed her gaze's resolve against Ophelia's.

"You sometimes are," Ophelia acknowledged, "But I sometimes enjoy that about you."

"Why would that be, pray tell?"

"Because you're fun and you normally see it my way in the end."

"Fun? I see. Fighting with me is fun." Morrigan accepted indifferently.

The brunette was aware of the triumphant smirks the blonde typically modeled after their conflicts. Ophelia did find entertainment in arguing with her then assuaging her…

Morrigan exhaled greatly then denoted, "And my 'seeing it your way in the end' is only because you lead this group. I have adjusted… To endure in this group with you because I admire you. But my conviction remains strong. If 'twere only you and I quarreling about other things not pertaining to the Blight specifically…" She checked her nails transitorily, tentative of how she should say the next few words. "'Twould have a different outcome."

"Is that true?" Ophelia droned.

"Yes," Morrigan explained informatively, "Whether or not I allowed you to win our inadvertent disputes in the past... The principal of my beliefs and opinions remain the same."

"Not even in the slightest, I'm certain," Ophelia submitted. Then she seized Morrigan's hands comfortingly, "Will you tell me why you brought Leliana up?"

"Nothing..." Morrigan abolished, veering her head to stare into the fire, "'Twas a silly thought. Forget why I asked."

"We fight. We make up. And repeat. I can deal with that."

"Don't be foolish..." Morrigan virtually murmured somberly.

"Let's face it. Anyone must be at some level in order to be with you," Ophelia quipped, grabbing Morrigan's undivided attention instantly.

"Spoken like a true philosopher..." Morrigan chuckled lightly. "Let me tell you this…" She rubbed at Ophelia's hands, abating the tiny enmity she showed her. "You are too noble for your own good and 'twill be your undoing."

"That may be…" Ophelia recognized, "But I don't mind." Her expression was too welcoming, it nearly irritated the sorceress.

She fondled Morrigan's hands tenderly, their eyes inescapably spellbound to one another's. The evening's chilly wind seemed most hospitable with their hands cinched together, leading Morrigan to establish the lean hands to be the fourth trait she adored about her.

_Those kind hands that once struck her, waking her from her self-centeredness; then treasured her, shielding her from harm, loving her unqualifiedly, and, last but not least, pleasuring her ceaselessly._

[I] **Phototaxy **[I]

Morrigan scanned the group clockwise while Ophelia delegated them under the perky sun and atop an elevated hill.

"Leliana and Sten."

The pair nodded with contentment.

"Wynne and Alistair."

The pair traded optimistic stares.

"Zevran and Shale."

Zevran pumped a sarcastic fist of jubilee to which Shale sighed 'lovely.'

Morrigan's spinning radar could only detect Oghren and she cringed at the absurdity. "You jest!" she accused Ophelia with a shout.

"Oghren and Morrigan," Ophelia finalized.

"Has it become your primary mission to torment me?"

"_BAHAHA!"_ Oghren croakily burst with laughter then snatched their belt from a table.

Morrigan stomped her way to Ophelia then whined irascibly, "Why have you paired me up with the repugnant dwarf? I will not play this little game of yours if you do not change it quickly!"

Ophelia patted Morrigan on the cheek, "If you do not play, you will gain nothing." She posed a sarcastically curious finger to a lip. "_Mmm…_ Rumor has it… Tlaxius owned this one staff… Staff of the Magister Lord, I think it was?"

"_UGH!_" Morrigan groaned from exasperation, "I will play!" she stormed back toward the drooling dwarf, stole the belt from his hands, then tied their feet together contemptuously in accordance with the rest of the players.

Ophelia had arranged a fun tournament for them where participants would receive a notable weapon or armor and the winner would earn something extra. There were about five rounds, each consisting a task that would reveal each member's strongest and weakest points. The first round was a simple game of a three-legged race, in which the last pair would attain the least amount of points. It was simple – if there weren't any obstacles and a steep hill.

"When Nutella barks, it's a go!" Ophelia yelled. And as she anticipated beside her, Nutella barked enthusiastically right after and the disorderly pairs climbed.

How she had a ball in observing them scramble comically below her: Zevran and Shale chunking small and large rocks to slow their opponents, Wynne raising grease around Zevran's ground, and Leliana calmly striding along with Sten's large foot, the only pair that had control in doing their job. All the while, Morrigan and Oghren struggled to move along as the witch screamed at his face to stop ogling her.

When Morrigan accidentally tripped and Oghren forcibly toppled over her with a sorry, she cried out of frustration then detonated, "TOUCH ME AGAIN AND I WILL EMASCULATE YOU!"

[-]

Following the lengthy tournament which Oghren eventually won, they had a festive supper and a petty award ceremony. Everyone was grateful to their generous leader for the overall exultant vacation but they were also quite pleased for it to end and return to their mission on defeating the darkspawn.

For the very first time, Morrigan took a bench with Ophelia at the larger campfire and socialized with the entire party. Ophelia had wisely carried out the discussions for her and had she merely replied or added further remarks.

Minutes into their mingling, Oghren drunkenly stumbled on a rock but before he could lay a hand on Morrigan, the rogue had swiftly scooted her closer with her and avoided it.

Morrigan sniggered to Ophelia satisfactorily, "You can be very deft when you need to be."

"Of course," Ophelia answered with a Machiavellian grin. "I should probably give him his honorary prize," she excused herself from the group then stood to support Oghren off the floor, "Let's go Oghren, I've got a surprise for you."

"Honorary? You have more to give that drunkard?" Morrigan quizzed petulantly.

"There's one thing he favored that was fine by me," Ophelia winked at her then hove the dozing dwarf up and away to a farther location.

Oghren grumbled then slurred, "Wh-what_?_"

Morrigan traced their footsteps with her eyes then bellowed after Ophelia partly peeled off her shirt by a cheerfully grunting Oghren and his tent, "Are you mad?!"

"I just wanted to make sure you were watching me dubiously like always!" Ophelia responded loudly then obliged, drawing her blouse down and proceeding with her duty.

The companions within the circle chortled at their banter and Morrigan trundled her eyeballs skywards then back to the bonfire.

_Stupid woman and stupid quirky behaviors._

She hugged her knees and started to space out as she counted the sparks of the conflagration, not listening to the other chattering and laughing members. The brightness consumed her concentration, its ripples and flickers churning an unknown ambiance inside of her.

Guiltily, she adored many traits about Ophelia. In fact, she would be able to name plenty. _Her charisma, virtuoso, passion, and more… _She couldn't get over the thought that she had the capacity to be intimately connected with her… _Physically, mentally, emotionally… Spiritually..._

But then her trance was cut abrupt.

"Oh look… A moth..." Leliana suddenly adverted to the bug hovering near the flames.

"Moths are unavoidably charmed to any source of light," Wynne expounded with her soft-spoken voice, "Its lure is inevitable to them even if it might lead to their death."

Leliana muttered dismayingly, "It's helplessly attracted to the beauty of the fire…"

Then the moth ventured into the fire, blended with it, and met its demise, its featherweight copper wings rupturing into ashes.

"An irresistible but fatal attraction," Leliana summarized.

Morrigan gulped at the appalling sight as the lower arc of her eyes inexplicably shed a rivulet of tears and she promptly treaded to her tent before anyone could say a word.

[ ] **Blow of Mercy **[ ]

The trees wavered nervously with her as Ophelia marched unhurriedly and brooded soundlessly, startled by Morrigan's request to talk out of the blue. She spotted the witch standing cruelly upright below the luminous full moon, the setting foreboding as it was enchanting.

Hearing the scoundrel's distinct footsteps, Morrigan began to talk, her back towards Ophelia. "I wish to speak to you in importance," she turned around and beheld her sternly, the nocturnal fluorescence emphasizing her rigorousness, "and I want for you to listen. Give me your utmost attention and certainly do not jest."

"Uh..." Ophelia dropped her genial mien then proclaimed, "Alright..."

Morrigan faltered for a few seconds, deliberating on how she should initiate the conversation.

A profound and shaky breath later, she spoke, "I warned you... Did I not? I told you that this was a weakness that was driving me mad... And yet you insisted."

"I did..." Ophelia admitted with inquisitive brows, "Why Morrigan...? Is there something wrong?" Then the pang from the possibility of a breakup befell on her and she begged preemptively, "_Don't_... Don't even go the––"

"It occurred to me..." Morrigan interrupted then delayed, swallowing the despair that could feasibly make her voice crack, "Once this is all over. You will not like me."

"That's not true..." Ophelia unpleasantly disputed, "You know it."

"'Tis all... Mere infatuation," Morrigan explained rationally, wearing a mask made of cold steel, "To an extraordinary degree. We are blinded with false feelings for momentary escape over what we must do daily."

"That's not true. That's just being cynical," Ophelia tried to persuade, her brows scrunching, anxiously frustrated.

Morrigan tucked her lengthy side bang, an effort to hide her apprehensiveness, "'Tis a mere fabrication," she reiterated in undertone. "And you are only really attracted to me because I resemble your long lost friend."

Ophelia nearly snapped, "That's a lie! It's a part," she clarified with a tone of unconditional compassion, "I liked you in the beginning because you reminded me of her. I stayed to like you because of you. You are different and much more complicated."

"Precisely," Morrigan agreed – but only to dishearten, "I am not _her_. I am not like normal women. You will be disappointed with me once this is all over."

"Don't do this Morrigan! I am willing to take that risk!" Ophelia demanded through almost gritted teeth, balling her fists.

"No you are not. You are convinced that you are but you are not. You will be hurt badly."

"Why?" Ophelia asked, stepping a few steps towards her, "What are you planning?"

"You deserve better than I. I cannot be there for you when this is all over," Morrigan justified solemnly then redirected her gaze elsewhere.

"We can make it so."

"No... We can't..." she lowered her chin, biting her lower lip when it quivered.

_This didn't have to happen. None of this had to..._

She regained her firm demeanor and coerced strictly, "Please listen, Ophelia... 'Tis just silly fun and games. In the end, I am not the type of woman to live the life you picture me wallowing in with you. You will realize that I am vindictive and not worth your time." She breathed in a lung full of courage. "And these feelings I possess now will eventually die... I will lose interest. And you will hate me. Ultimately, our goals are at absolute opposite ends of the spectrum and will undoubtedly cause many irreconcilable differences. This I am certain. _You_... Will _hate _me."

Ophelia just stared at her with dumbfounding desperation.

Her usually dignified platinum orbs melting emotions of lost pride…

Empty drive…

And hopeless love.

Morrigan couldn't bear the speechless sorrow in her eyes and attempted to appease her as a friend, "I truly care for you. I do not want to see you hurt." But then her eyelashes fluttered irrepressibly, preparing for self-sabotage, "That is why..." she sobbed briefly and her golden globes became watery, the concluding act to breaking her own heart, "I must let you go..." She sniffed with a high pitch, then covered her eyes with a softly trembling hand, needing its assistance in her cowardly recoil while Ophelia's heart shattered in front of her.

The rogue gawped blankly into the forest, taken aback by the surreality of her situation.

_Just when everything seemed better… Now this?_

Incredulous of their fate, Ophelia forced her feet to trudge onwards, clutching Morrigan at the sides. She pleaded severely, obsidian lips incapacitated of its typical power of coercion, "Morrigan... Don't do this..." Her countenance completely dropped, on the verge of bawling, "_Please!_ I-I've never felt for anyone in this way..." She confessed unequivocally, striving to capture Morrigan in a focused rivet, "_I'm in love with you_..."

Morrigan granted her scrutiny but snarled irately, "Do not speak to me of manure!"

Ophelia unexpectedly sensed her eye overflow and she swerved her head away from view as a single tear ran down her cheek, her shoulders stiffly hunched.

"Don't you dare _cry_!" Morrigan protested in agony then cupped the sides of her face and berated her, "Don't you _cry_, you miserable...!" She gasped heavily from immediate discovery of the leading Warden soundlessly crying a river as she faced her.

"_Ophelia_..." Morrigan reposed her hands on her collarbone and soothed, fiddling with the ring-necklace and gazing at her sincerely remorseful, "I… _I'm sorry_... For ever giving you the subtlest hint that I could be worthwhile. The painful truth is..." She stated devoid of emotion but with a diminishing volume, "I am not. And… I never will be," then with eyes plastered on the dirt floor, she turned her back to her.

"Can you just discard everything...? Everything we've recently meant to each other?" Ophelia endeavored to keep herself contained, eyelids beating like a drenched hummingbird's wings, "Can you?" she probed, a lump in her throat muting her words.

"Yes. I can. And I must. 'Tis for the best… For both of us," Morrigan confirmed definitively, "If you cannot do this... Then I have no choice but to leave. I'm sorry. It must come to this. Or it may end in the worst way possible. And I cannot..." Memories of their intimacy flashing abruptly in her mind, Morrigan faced her once more and clarified with a faint smile, "Do not be mistaken. 'Tis nothing you did wrong. You have protected me and provided me with more than I deserve. And I am grateful. Truly I am. And I know you care not about reward. But you..."

In her pause, Ophelia wiped the tears off of her face then advanced on Morrigan and scowled deeply; the grave wound in her heart evidently marring her otherwise proud and regal visage.

"You deserve more," Morrigan caressed a tanned cheek and mollified, "Much _much _more than I could _ever _offer you."

"If this is what you want..." Ophelia grasped Morrigan's hands and coaxed for what could be the last time, "Stay with me. One last time. In my tent tonight," she intoned with every ounce of her might, her grip tightening, "If you are strong enough to return to your own tent before dawn... I will believe that you no longer want this... _Us_..." Her silver irises were resolute, looking into Morrigan's daringly, "And I will... Find the strength to... Let this go..."

"_You_..." Morrigan retracted her hands then slapped her violently, "Miserable, selfish bastard!"

Following Ophelia's shudder for what she thought was rejection; Morrigan oppressed the sides of her face with her hands then kissed her fervently.

[-]

_Turn down the lights,  
>Turn down the bed,<br>Turn down these voices,  
>Inside my head,<br>Lay down with me,  
>Tell me no lies,<br>Just hold me close,  
>Don't patronize me,<br>Don't patronize me._

_'Cause I can't make you love me,_  
><em>If you don't,<em>  
><em>You can't make your heart feel,<em>  
><em>Something it won't,<em>  
><em>Here in the dark,<em>  
><em>In these final hours,<em>  
><em>I will lay down my heart,<em>  
><em>And I'll feel the power,<br>But you don't,  
>No, you don't.<em>

_'Cause I can't make you love me,_  
><em>If you don't,<em>  
><em>If you don't,<em>  
><em>No, you won't.<em>

_I'll close my eyes,_  
><em>Then I won't see,<em>  
><em>The love you don't feel,<em>  
><em>When you're holding me.<em>

_Morning will come,_  
><em>And I'll do what's right,<em>  
><em>Just give me till then,<em>  
><em>To give up this fight.<em>

_And I will give up this fight._

_'Cause I can't make you love me,_  
><em>If you don't.<em>  
><em><br>I can't make your heart feel,_  
><em>Something it won't,<em>  
><em>Here in the dark,<em>  
><em>In these final hours,<em>  
><em>I will lay down my heart,<em>  
><em>And I'll feel the power,<br>But you don't,  
>No, you don't.<em>

_I can't make you love me if you don't,_  
><em>If you don't,<em>  
><em>No you won't.<em>

[-]

A lightly tan hand strained to latch loosely into a retreating fair-skinned hand, hooking together a letter s.

Then against deprived fingertips was nothing, nothing but the remnants of unfulfilled love lingering like a child missing.

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"I Can't Make You Love Me" by Bon Iver

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for The Walk<strong>

**Meirouki**: Plenty of love here from the couple, what do you think? But I know it's sad. Oh, I have twists coming real soon. It's going to be a little startling for some of you but I hope it's believable. Haha. I'm glad to know my writing is good enough to pull you away from study. XD But focus on your studies first, my writing will still be here. :)

**Moral Attention**: Would you be content with Ophelia dying if I made it reasonable? Idk. This part I'm still contemplating. That's why it's still a WIP in some cases. I have a way for it not to but... Anyway! Not giving away my plans haha. Thanks for reviewing again.

**Andy Lewis**: She is, isn't she? I didn't play DA2 but I really enjoyed looking her banters up in YouTube. How'd you like Isabela here?

**Dalish Elf**: Sorry for the wait, I'll explain later. They don't exactly admit it. Morrigan didn't admit it fully. You know, some lines were actually from the game. Morrigan did say 'love' but she didn't say 'I love you.'

**vileniaveladorn**: Finally! You review again! I had a feeling you were around. Haha. Zevran cares for Ophelia as a true friend. Even in the beginning at the lake, he was talking to Morrigan and kind of bringing them together. More will be shown with the strength of their friendship later. There will be a triangle, just wait. XD But remember, this is about Morrigan and Ophelia's relationship so the other person won't get as much detailed romance.

**Arf-Arf-Psycho**: Lol. Browser drama. XD Well, I'm glad you found the effort to review again. Yea... I did feel a little bad about just ditching Isabela right there. But it had to be done. Haha. Thanks for reviewing.

**BetaGamma**: Thank you! Mostly everyone says that. I'm really happy my work has paid off and it shows. I'm very meticulous about the feelings being portrayed.

**whiskered oranges**: I'm just teasing. No need to say whoops. Haha. I'm pretty organized with my saves so I know what I'm doing. I know some dubstep is just noise and I refrain from those. Glad you liked that one. I didn't try to kill Flemeth alone but it could be possible. My rogue's fire resistance is high with the Phoenix Armor mod. If I use some salves and other pots I could probably do it. It was easy enough with a team on nightmare mode. Lol about your rapt attention. That's why I wrote the chapter like that. XD How'd this chapter treat you? Wasn't expecting it? Did you cry? XD Of course she wasn't in the shape of an animal when the lightning hit. She was up in the trees out of view while she did it. Then went down animal form then turned human again. :p Imogen Heap's one of my favorites. I know she's more popular than all the other artists I've posted but I couldn't help but think that song was perfect for that chapter. Thanks for the detailed reviews! You're one of my favorite reviewers!

**CrimsonNoble**: Thanks for the rating! And haha. It's mostly supposed to describe their color. That they're milky or creamy light skinned. I would need to find a better way to describe them next time then. XD

Thanks for reviewing everyone! Review again please.

* * *

><p>AN: So sorry for the wait. I got a little depressed in the beginning of the week and didn't write at all. Some of you might know one cause of it in deviantART. The art I posted for a Dragon Age contest didn't even get in the voting. I blame the irresponsible judges that enter and vote in their own contest.

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

How was this chapter? It's not over yet. There's still hope so don't get really sad. I have twists coming so stay tuned for that. We're at the climax of the story so it will get really emotional. I just hope you're all going to be okay with it.

For those that are wondering what Morrigan's dress might look like, the image was inspired by Gucci's FW 2012/2013 RTW collection. It's a romanticized dress so it's not so off from their time but a bit more provocative. Then again, some outfits in DA are provocative so I think it's okay.

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	12. Chapter 12 Blinding

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_Minor Edit: April 2nd, 2014_

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 12 - <strong>Blinding<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Seems that I have been held, in some dreaming state,<br>A tourist in the waking world, never quite awake,  
>No kiss, no gentle word could wake me from this slumber,<br>Until I realized that it was you who held me under._

[-]

Ophelia stared at the earth's dirt – staring but not perceiving.

She felt the wind's chill – feeling but not experiencing.

She breathed the air – breathing but not truly living; hopelessly out of touch with reality.

Then she heard the footsteps of a familiar – hearing but not listening.

"Ophelia." Zevran sensed her disquiet, calling her by her name rather than the typical cajoling monikers. "The group's been expecting you."

A second after his report, Ophelia stood from a stone slab then turned around to meet him with a content façade. "Are they now?" she patted him on a bicep, "Of course they are. Thanks for reminding." And with a fleeting smile, she trudged onwards out of the Brecilian forest's gloom and into the monotony of their camp.

Zevran followed behind her and watched as she trekked along, her swagger remained but only to the body's extent. If one gazed at her eyes, one would find that she was lost – not lost in meditation, but lost in essence, devoid of a soul.

For a couple of days, Ophelia contained the uncompromising, happy but blank façade. Everyone had noticed her sudden lack of regard for Morrigan and had gossiped about a break up, but neither of the two had been approachable to ascertain it. Ophelia refused to be questioned and used witty red herrings as an escape while Morrigan simply reverted to her typical unremitting solitude. Surprisingly, their tents stayed close to each other, but neither visited nor glimpsed at the other.

Through the midst of the predicament, Ophelia had led her team into the Dalish camp and had professionally set their next mission effortlessly, her posture rigid and her manner of speech curt and straightforward in dealing with the elusive elven keeper. However, when they finished their tasks and returned to their own camp, the dullness within the party became increasingly apparent. They mostly just communicated for the need of it and not for the fun of it – unable to socialize without Ophelia's genuine good spirits to inspire them. They became somewhat detached: stopping their lighthearted repartees, personal chatters, card games, and festive meals together. Once, Ophelia had forced jokes to liven their mood but they didn't buy her bullshit, leaving their leader alone in her state of false blasé. They were aware of the sensitive problem she ignored and, thus, tentative upon the means for a solution.

"_Heh_…" Ophelia articulated with wonder when she reached the epicenter of despondency. "Did someone die?" She tetchily scanned the crowd who avoided eye contact. "Not answering, huh?" She scoffed then declared, "That's fine."

"_Ophelia_..." Leliana susurrated under her breath in empathy for the indefinite, her head and eyes were downcast but discreetly glancing for the rogue.

Shifting her weight unto her rearmost foot, Ophelia delegated resolutely swift, "Unless it's your turn for chores… Groups of three. Find either a clue to the location of the werewolves' lair or find a werewolf itself and try asking them if they can communicate. Or just kill them… If hostile." And with that, she veered away with a cold shoulder.

"Is she… Going to search alone?" Leliana queried her companions with depressed eyebrows.

Zevran exhaled anxiously, "I will try to talk to her once more," then he listlessly trailed after Ophelia.

"The only time I've ever seen her like that was before the battle at Ostagar… I should've paid more attention to why…" Alistair shook his head disappointedly for a moment then declared, "Anyway, she gave us orders. We should probably get into groups."

"No. Not yet." Wynne voiced her concern softly, "We should get to the bottom of this before it worsens." Then she analyzed Morrigan apprehensively.

The witch was sitting soundlessly far off the main circle, looking elsewhere as she waited for her group to get her.

Leliana took the initiative and called for her attention, "Morrigan…" She made an effort to prop on a seat next to her when she didn't reply, "Ophelia can't be like this for the remainder of our quest. Please say something. You're the only one who must know something."

Morrigan's brows knitted inevitably then she closed her eyes and whispered flatly, "'Tis as most of you had speculated. I… Broke her heart. It was easily the single most difficult thing I had ever done. More than this, I will not say."

As the truth struck, Leliana's mouth fell open. She was not even involved in the split, but she commiserated for Ophelia. She wanted to criticize Morrigan in response but could not amass the courage to and probed shakily instead, "But… _Why Morrigan?_ I thought… You liked her so much…"

"I had sort of expected this much," Wynne added sternly but considerately, "That you were not adept for such a selfless and devoted relationship…" She referred to Morrigan. Her hand traveled to her chest for relief as she inhaled a lungful of regret, "I deliberately overlooked it because it seemed that you had adjusted for her. Because Ophelia was so happy with you… Because you were both happy together… And Ophelia had earned that happiness even in these darkest times."

Morrigan kept her lips sealed, determined to preserve her calm composure. Leliana and Wynne scrutinized her, mildly incriminating, while the others retained their distant demeanors but silently sympathized for the tragic romance.

"Whether it was love or not, you have at least experienced something very close to it. And you should be thankful to her for granting you that opportunity." Wynne finalized with a stricter tone, "It would be fair to say that it is _your_ responsibility that Ophelia recover from this healthily. This is a Blight and Ferelden needs her. We need her. If she does not, most of the fault and guilt would be placed upon you," and with that caveat, she unhurriedly drifted away for her routine duty.

"You… Is this what you really wanted?" Leliana attempted to read her, azure plastered on wandering gold. "You love her, don't you?"

Morrigan didn't budge, her spine strictly upright. "There are… More important matters to attend to. Let us not waste any more time."

[-]

_Felt it in my fist, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids,  
>Shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my ribs.<em>

[-]

Speckles of ochre glimmered on Ophelia as she marched over copper foliage. She had been roaming alone deep inside the Brecilian forest for hours, slaying whatever unfortunate sentient dared to attack her along the way. The pursuit's objective was inscribed in her mind though currently it merely appeared secondary to her – the primary unclear.

Prior to her solitary excursion, Zevran had apprehensively pleaded for her not to venture alone, then when unanswered, he pleaded for a profound discourse about the condition of her and Morrigan's relationship. She decided to brushoff the intrusive elf's requests by snubbing then harshly dismissing him to work.

Her brows scrunched crossly at the thought and she glared past the thickness of the woods. _She wasn't a helpless damsel who couldn't handle distress. She had always been able to manage on her own since she became an adult. She didn't need anybody. She never needed anybody. She would persist to recuperate on her own._

Upon descending down a small hill, a warded tombstone shielded with an astral aura started to crackle. Ophelia spotted its sparks and smirked, the adrenaline from exhilaration propelling through her veins as she progressed towards it. She extended a gloved hand to touch the crackling epitaph then the powerful explosion hurled her backwards unto a tree, the impact boggling her brain. Nimble in her reaction, she landed with bent knees then did a diagonal roll, getting back to her feet in a nearly instantaneous motion.

She chuckled darkly and unsheathed her blades while a dozen reanimated skeletons and a daunting possessed corpse emerged from a mire, their petrifying and ghostly moans producing her no hindrance. But it was not as if she avoided hindrance…

Her head bobbed tauntingly, welcoming the revenant's controlling pull.

"_You know it…"_

The blur towards the ugly demon ended and her trance began.

Ophelia marked her targets with fast glances but focused on the biggest fiend. Her twin daggers purely parried the strikes of the revenant, keeping the toughest enemy close as she estimated the weaker enemies' arrival within her melee range.

"_She will use you in the end…"_

A scowl formed. She twisted in evasion and simultaneously sliced a carcass's feeble spine.

"_Why else would she feel guilty?"_

Haziness filled her vision while she allowed her physique to move on its own. She could discern the movements she made. She could discern her dodging, her slashing, her impaling… She could discern her victims' collapse and crumble. She could discern everything as it occurred but it was a distortion – a _pleasurable_ distortion.

"_You know it."_

She gritted her teeth. _"Be silent."_ Then beheaded two skeleton warriors before they could overpower her.

"_Do you recall?"_

An arrow scraped her armor and she snapped, drawing a stiletto and flinging it into the center of the archer's rib and dismantling it under a split-second.

"_And I quote… 'You will be disappointed with me once this is all over.'"_

With boots skipping weightlessly, she retreated rearward to catch her breath then muttered irritably, _"She meant leaving!"_

"_Do not be ignorant."_

Three remaining henchmen and the revenant grated eerie noises then jogged hurriedly toward her. Meeting their challenge, she dashed headlong.

"_What she plans will not please you."_

"_Shut it!"_ The sounds resonated harmoniously: the intense swish of a broad claymore swinging low at twelve o'clock, the whooshes of two long swords swinging slantwise from eleven and one, and the distinct snap of a bow elsewhere.

"_It will be against everything you stand for."_

Using momentum from her short sprint, she flipped, trusted her instincts, and dispatched the two foremost weaklings in a quick blear in midair.

"_You are nothing to her but a measly instrument."_

"_NO!"_ She yelled a demented war cry then slayed the revenant with a leap and precise piercing to its wraithlike skull.

"_Eliminate her and permanently preclude it."_

Ophelia giggled nonsensically at the last worthless skeleton archer, cocking her head in analysis of how she would prolong her amusement.

[-]

_No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone,  
>No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden,<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love,  
>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love,<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world._

[-]

Platinum irises gleamed in anticipation but wavered diminutively, nervous of what they watch intently. Ophelia was shrouded in the shadows below lofty trees, her ungloved hands trembling with her breathing.

The sun floated at the edge of the horizon and painted a warm overlay on the scene that unfolded before her.

Across the sparkling river and by a large waterfall, Morrigan removed her jewelry then proceeded to slip off of her clothes. First, she clinched the bottom of her shirt then hauled it gradually upwards, exposing her smooth breasts and slim abdomen. Second, she undid the straps on her skirt then let her pants fall to her ankles, displaying her creamy white legs which jerked to drop her pants near her other belongings.

_They were so close in proximity… Yet so far._

Ophelia swallowed her lust and desperation, holding unto her shrinking self-control.

But then, Morrigan untied her bun, her ebony hair flowing attractively past her shoulders and down till her waist. Lastly, she hooked her thumbs on the sides of her panties and painstakingly revealed every inch of her feminine grace, inciting licentious sensations in Ophelia.

_How she undressed so openly... Was she secretly beckoning for her to join? Or was it just an erogenous imagination? A vile trick to seduce her into rejection then lead her into belligerence?  
><em>  
>Powerless to the ensnaring lure, Ophelia stepped out of the dark at the same time Morrigan had submerged her body into the water, the rogue's caprice unbeknownst to the witch.<p>

Morrigan's frame zoomed underwater then rapidly rose by a rocky ledge, her head and shoulders above the stream. She was gathering her drizzling hair when a weary voice disrupted her.

"I... I said to myself a while ago..."

Morrigan visibly flinched, realizing she was right beside bloodstained boots. "O–Ophelia…?"

"'It had already been a few days. She'll feel lonely and regret... Then come back to me,'" Ophelia put a step forward and Morrigan defensively waddled some feet back. "This is just a bad dream, isn't it? Tell me I'm dreaming..." Ophelia begged with carefree sarcastic snickers of disbelief.

"I'm sorry. I know 'twould be too much to handle. But 'twas not a joke, Ophelia..." Morrigan toddled slowly backwards, her cat eyes blemished with a shade of fear, "'Twould be best if we kept our distance." Halting momentarily, she willed herself to behold her seriously and applied a sterner tone in her demand, "Simply give me orders and I will do my duty without dispute. Also, we should refrain from speaking any more than what is necessary for our quest."

"No!" An aggressive vein materialized on Ophelia's forehead as she declined and shouted in sharp retort, "I don't believe this! How could you not want us?" She jumped into the creek with her armor on and angrily advanced on the receding witch, "I'm sure you know that nothing else had felt so real!" They waded further and further, until she cornered Morrigan into the cascade and her eyes narrowed predatorily.

"Don't… Come any closer."

But Ophelia disagreed. She entered past the heavy downpour and intoned softly, "I know you love me too..."

The surging water blocked considerable amount of light, the only illumination from the sun dimly lighting the rugged inside. For what felt like a minute in the waterfall's cover, fraught silver overwhelmed speechless yellow.

Then, abruptly, after a palpitation and severe inhalation later – unforgiving obsidian conquered repelling rose, tanned latching unto fair-skinned.

Morrigan struggled against Ophelia's tight embrace on her waist. She clawed on the litheness of her armor as she strove to push her away and repeatedly mumbled 'stop' into her relentless mouth. Before she could bite her for release, Ophelia drifted to her neck and bit her instead. She beseeched, "Stop! Ophelia please…" Then a tan hand journeyed downwards and assaulted her delicate region, making her whimper, "_HAH~S–STOP! OPHELIA!_" Desisting to surrender and finally resorting to magic, she transformed a ball of liquid into a block of ice and smashed it sideways unto blonde head.

Ophelia recoiled erratically then clutched her skull, leaning limply beside a wall while she panted.

"Heed my words..." Morrigan warned gently yet decisively, "I will leave if you do not stop."

"How can you be so cold..." Ophelia blurted with a ruined grimace, "After all this time?" She rifled for the ring-necklace then plucked it off of her neck, "Keep your ring. I don't want it," she vehemently threw it next to the equally dejected mage.

"I'm…" Morrigan cupped the ring into her hands before it plummeted out of her reach. Her eyelids immediately fluttered and she declared with utmost sincerity, her lips quivering, "I'm _so sorry _Ophelia… I don't know what else to say…"

"You're a heartless shrew, you know that?"

"I... I know."

[-]

_And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack,  
>All around the world was waking, I never could go back,<br>'Cause all the walls of dreaming, they were torn right open,  
>And finally it seemed that the spell was broken.<em>

[-]

The evening breeze became cooler, most members huddling to the bonfire with an extra layer of clothing and a bowl of hot soup.

Nutella welcomed his master with a bark as she laggardly ambled to them, her battle raiment replaced by comfortable casual wear. The anxious party had waited for her return since an hour ago, when they had divulged their knowledge of the breakup and when she had proclaimed she was fine but merely needed more time.

"Ophelia, are you sure you're okay?" Leliana prodded in soft-spoken voice, rising from her stool to greet her.

In truth, Ophelia had lied to them that she had been fine. She wasn't fine – not even before her heated encounter with Morrigan.

Donning the façade, Ophelia refuted, "For the hundredth time, Leliana... I'm fine." She passed by her indifferently and grabbed a bowl then poured potage into it.

"I... I know you can take care of yourself but..." Leliana strived to explain with a frown, "It's just..."

Ophelia reclined languidly on the grass and shaped a smile, "I'm fine. Quit pestering me, okay?" she assured solely then fiddled with her utensil to scoop a spoonful.

"She just doesn't want to see you get yourself hurt. No one does," Wynne advocated in a maternal manner.

"I'm fine," Ophelia slurred in between eating, stirring her food constantly to dodge their penetrating gaze.

_How ironic that in the morning she had goaded for them to look at her and now she could not exchange the act._

"You are a great deceiver, Ophelia." Zevran reproved carefully, his amber eyes concentrating on faltering Ophelia, "But even a cunning woman such as yourself cannot act in your best performance in a time of vulnerability. We do not have to second guess, you are indeed troubled."

Ophelia sighed slightly petulantly and blatantly paused her dinner, "I am _trying _to stay strong for all of Ferelden. Is that not good enough?" Her spine straightened with her livid complaint, "What is it that do you people want of me to do? Weep with self-pity?"

"If that is what it takes to better recover," Wynne alluded solemnly.

"I have plenty more ale if you need it..." Oghren croakily chimed in, his proposition earnest.

"Oghren, please..." Wynne rubbed her forehead disappointedly then advised firmly, "Ophelia, silently seething will not award you respite. Bottling your feelings will only result in more pain and sadness. It is not a weakness to let it out and talk to us. We are here for you."

Ophelia sunk low in forfeiture, pondering how she must've conveyed a much more wretched impression to her friends.

[-]

After the melancholic supper, Ophelia amicably dragged Zevran for a stroll in the Dalish forest. They conversed for minutes, chatting about Isabela till the taller scoundrel eventually grew less jovial and more staid.

Ophelia loomed by a boulder for a second then settled on it, placing an ankle over a knee and staring enigmatically out into the moonlit expanse of restful plain that stretched downhill. She permitted a gust to blow her shoulder-length unfettered hair as she mused mutely, waiting for the elf to initiate a new topic.

"So… You are… Willing to speak now?" Zevran inquired hesitantly; mindful of the privilege he was being offered.

"Yes," Ophelia responded insouciantly, her contemplation locked on the serene scenery, "Go ahead. Ask me anything."

Zevran leisurely sat next to her on the boulder, five or six inches apart from her. He copied her nonchalant stance then began calmly, "I noticed Morrigan's full tenacity to continue without a tear of woe… And your conformity to such..." He twisted to some degree to his left and regarded her concernedly, "She gave you an ultimatum, did she not?"

"What's done is done," Ophelia supposed with half-lidded eyes, the darkness of her lashes emphasizing the rawness of her faintly crestfallen irises.

"I am sorry to hear that." Zevran distinguished grimly, "Understand that I know how desolate and despondent heartbreak can be for one person, Ophelia."

"You killing Rinna… Then finding out the truth…" Ophelia scoffed cynically. She then stargazed, estimating that the billions of stars must be as ridiculously profuse as her foolishness, "Yea… I must look pathetic, don't I?"

"No. Not at all." Zevran objected then explicated with a confession, "You once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die. What better way than to throw myself at one of the fabled Grey Wardens? And then… You happened. And here I am. It was because of that suicidal contract that I found you. And because of you, I had coped."

"That is…" Ophelia beheld him thoughtfully, examining him thoroughly to compose a proper reaction. "I'm glad to have you..." she affirmed purely.

"It is an honor and a pleasure," Zevran tossed her a smile of gratitude. "To answer your question in detail… I believe there are different levels of love and different measures in coping. Yours was not completely illogical. Yet... Self-destructive, as it was." He chuckled a bit at their kinship, "We are similar in that notion as well."

"Yea..." Ophelia uttered then reconnected her eyes to the evergreen meadow. She daydreamed for a while then mentioned, "You once said you approved of Morrigan… For me."

Zevran clarified, "It is true. I had confidence in your blossoming relationship. At first, it had been a fun gimmick to see if she would succumb to your incessant wheedling. And fortuitously, she remarkably did. It was a spectacular accomplishment, to be exact," he laughed at his reminder of the events. Then switching back to a serious tone, he declared, "But… How she improved throughout our journey just for you… She somehow seemed sensible enough to be a stable lover. I truly wished to see you happy with Morrigan through the end, her being tamed by another strong woman such as yourself. It is a rarity and a marvel, no less."

"_Hmph_. Though not tamed enough, it appears…"

"There is nothing for you to regret. You enjoyed yourselves, did you not? And you both still live. Though now, you are free to philander as much as you wish once more. And no disruptions from me this time." Zevran optimistically noted.

"Philander, huh?" Ophelia quirked a brow in trivial interest.

"Whatever Morrigan's reason for severing the relationship, well... It is her loss, my dear, not yours," Zevran added, the last few words echoing in Ophelia's head.

_Her loss? How she had provided everything for her... Countless jewelry, a golden mirror, an expensive dress, passionate sex, Flemeth's grimoires and her death... And yet... None of it had been enough. Why couldn't she attain the love she so coveted from her?_

_It was all she wanted..._

_All she ever needed from her…_

_Why the fuck couldn't she keep her?  
><em>  
><em>Why?!<em>

Ophelia christened under her breath, "Zevran…"

"_Hmm?_"

_Thud!_

Zevran couldn't comprehend what just happened as he was unexpectedly thrust in between a rock and a hard place.

Ophelia had pinned him down on the boulder they were on and gawped at him hungrily. She licked her lips then salaciously proposed, "You wanted me? Didn't you?" She tore his sheer shirt open, pressed her palms on his chest, then leaned down and enticingly purred, "_Here's your chance_..."

Zevran exclaimed in bewilderment, "_What–––?_"

Ophelia planted a hushing index on his lips and simplified, "_Shh... Don't be scared. This is just for fun…_" She cooed, their lips virtually touching in their imbalanced rivet, "What do you say?" Her hands strayed in hasty descent, unbuttoning his trousers.

"Nn_––" _Zevran's protest was muffled by Ophelia's mouth violently surmounting his, her humming of delight amplifying his perplexity.

Her fingers swiftly shot inside his pants and groped him _–_the action bitterly waking him.

"_NO!_" Zevran roared and vigorously shoved Ophelia off.

She was taken by surprise and stumbled backwards, solidly unto the grass.

Ophelia's eyes broadened and she panted heavily just as he did. She palpably gulped and blinked ceaselessly, on the verge of mortified tears.

"I'm sorry..." Zevran spoke in undertone, his amber compassionate, "But I cannot help you forget... Not like this." He buttoned his pants steadily then, with a fleeting stare, he departed quickly.

Ophelia tallied the stars and reveled in their spin as her crystalline tears started to spill.

[-]

_And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open,  
>And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open.<em>

[-]

"Morrigan?" Leliana civilly barged into Morrigan's tent, the witch's accusatory countenance at odds with the bard's preemptive but courteous entrance.

An additional search wasn't needed; the witch idled vertical on a wooden chair, evidently anticipating her arrival.

"Morrigan... You know Ophelia assailed Zevran just now?" Leliana blamed with resentment and despair, her usually chirpy sapphire marred with ire, "She's so confused and lost after what you did to her! How could you just let it end like that? She doesn't deserve this!"

"She deserves better than I. 'Tis true," Morrigan murmured in monotone, gawking emptily at the fabric of her bedroll.

"You're so selfish! Why couldn't you just love her back?" Leliana pried in anguish, her forehead wrinkling in sorrow, "I had faith in you. I honestly believed you had changed and could make her happy. That even I forgave you and no longer held any grudges against you... But what you did..."

Morrigan quietly interrupted, "I did not want..." Her voice was low in volume as she endeavored to elucidate, "I wished to stop sooner but she... And the events that transpired between us..." She lifted her chin higher, her concluding statement resolute, "'Twas forced upon me."

"That's not an excuse. You know you wanted it or else you would never had...!" Then Leliana practically sobbed, expressing the agony that Morrigan couldn't and wouldn't, "She's _hurt_, Morrigan! If she wasn't so skilled in her craft, she could've been badly wounded today – wandering alone! And she assailed Zevran!" she sniffed and wiped the dampness of her cheeks then continued with better articulation, "And you would've stayed with her if nothing's stopping you. But your selfishness is, isn't it? You just want what's best for you and you alone!"

Morrigan instantly bolted to an offensive stance then sneered at the bard, "Do not even begin to berate me, Leliana! As if you knew _exactly _how I felt for her!" Then she briefly dithered, saddened by guilt. She rubbed her lips together and laid insecure digits on a temple, delaying momentarily to painfully admit: "I _care _for her… I truly do! What I did was not best for me, 'twas the best for both of us... You know nothing about what I had to sacrifice..."

"Sacrifice? Your love for her? What are you saying, Morrigan?" Leliana questioned, a little baffled and perturbed. She paced a number of steps forward then pleaded, "Tell me..."

"It matters not," Morrigan frigidly disregarded her plea and sullenly spun around to linger to a miniature table.

"It does…" Leliana observed the sorceress attentively as Morrigan unfastened a rosewood ring from its lace then gripped it protectively as the stillness of midnight expanded their silence.

Morrigan froze for minutes on end as she pored over the ring, deliberating soundlessly. Her small fire outside had nearly extinguished, only understated inklings of its auburn life grazing inside her tent.

Reaching a decision, she quizzed in a cutting demeanor, "Do you like her?"

"What?"

"Do you_ like_ _Ophelia_?" she reiterated, her tone splitting the thin air that surrounds them.

Leliana was greatly puzzled but she replied, "Of course I do. I admired her since the very beginning."

Morrigan established critically, "Then take her. She's yours if you can make it."

"_What?_ I didn't mean…" Leliana stammered, "_W-Why?_"

"You heard me. You are much better for her. You could bring her more happiness. And... Cannot hurt her like I did," Morrigan swerved her disconsolate visage entirely out of view and spoke placidly, "She's venturing into a dangerous path... Stop her before she gets there."

_To be a mere rebound in order to comfort her?_

"But... I can't do that... She's in love with you... Not me," Leliana exhaled deeply, "I can't do that to her..."

"Then just... Make her believe there was never any hope for us..." Morrigan supplemented for encouragement, "That you were the better choice. That anyone else would've been a better choice... And I will be grateful."

Leliana had known that Morrigan loved Ophelia. _How could she not after everything they had been through?_ It shredded her sentiments to smithereens that two souls that loved each other couldn't be together – just because something was stopping the other. She wanted to, but couldn't get mad at Morrigan totally. The witch had developed a more considerate heart.

"Morrigan..." Leliana tried for one last time, "You can make things right again. Tell her you made a mistake and that you love her. Because you obviously do... You're just too stubborn."

"As much as I might... Want it..." Morrigan justified ambiguously, "I cannot... I must save her... 'Twill only make it harder..."

"_Save_ her? What do you mean?" Discovering her valor late, Leliana bravely approached her.

Morrigan promptly pivoted and met her halfway. She extended a hand outwards then instructed, "When the time is right, give this back to her."

Leliana haltingly took the ring from the center of her palm then studied it, "A ring? What for?"

"Take it and go. Just go Leliana, please..." Morrigan shooed her with an uncaring gesture then cowered away from the impending scrutiny once again.

Leliana stood there, dumbstruck.

With her lasting motivation, Morrigan commanded, "Go to her. She's waiting... For you…"

[-]

_No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone,  
>No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden,<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love,  
>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love,<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world._

[-]

Leliana parted Ophelia's tent covers then peeped in, "Ophelia?" she called uneasily.

The Grey Warden was dreadfully faced down on her bedroll, her unkempt hair blocking her face. She noticeably breathed substantially, her lungs inflating and deflating raggedly – a clue that she was awake.

"I wanted to talk to you..." Leliana announced tenderly, creeping into her shelter noiselessly.

"I'm fine," Ophelia intoned huskily.

"No," Leliana heard the distinct sorrow in her speech and recognized that she had been crying, "No you're not…" she contested, suddenly on the brink of tears, "And we can't function well as a group if you're not…"

"Perhaps you should find a new leader then."

"We won't. Because we don't want anyone else to lead us." Leliana crawled over next to her and besought on her knees, "Don't do this to yourself, please... You'll be more miserable." She inched in and placed a consoling hand on her shoulder, "I know it hurts... And I know I'm not her. But let me be a source of comfort for you..."

Ophelia dallied impassive for a minute while Leliana stroked her back caringly, the heat of her palm transferring to her skin. Her mind had always been enraptured by Morrigan from their very first meeting; she never paid any attention to how Leliana had constantly been around, seeking her company. In fact, now in her reminiscence, the Orlesian must've liked her a lot. Ruefully, she bent her head feebly upwards, her understated cue for the red head to make her move.

Leliana gasped lightly from relief and formed a bittersweet smile. Not wasting any more time, she bowed down and hooked her arms from underneath Ophelia's stomach then delved her hands up to the crux of her chest, clinching her from behind affectionately. She rested her head at the peak of her spine and concentrated on her breathing and heartbeat, thanking the Maker that she was alright and she had opened to her.

"I don't know what happened… The impulse struck me and I gave in…" Ophelia wept noiselessly, "I've never felt so… _Inadequate_…"

"You're not…" Leliana reassured, clinging to her as if to prevent her from throwing a tantrum, "You've done so many good things for us and everyone else. And _we_ need you. Everyone in Ferelden needs you. You are hardly inadequate."

"Please tell Zevran that I apologize..." Ophelia requested with modest remorse, her body tensing from disgrace.

"He already knows, Ophelia…" Leliana mollified.

They remained in the heartfelt embrace without speaking for an elongated period. When Ophelia shivered, Leliana tucked the blankets above them both then went right back to their former positions.

Ophelia squinted drowsily; the doors of reprieve opening for her to plunge into the sea of sleep. In her somnolent daze before her influx into it, Leliana's gentle words resounded in the halls of her persevering consciousness.

_"I've always liked this fragrance of yours..."_

_"The last time I smelt it seemed so long ago. It's subtle but once you take a whiff of it, it can't be forgotten."_

_"A feminine but empowering scent. It's definitely you."_

_"And your warmth... It wasn't as cold as a winter night then but now I can really tell... How soothing it is to be next to you."_

_"If she could not fully accept this warm and kind heart of yours... She must not be completely prepared to accept it."_

_"It's not you, Ophelia. It's not you..."  
><em>  
>"Leliana..." Before Ophelia was wholly engulfed by slumber, she whispered, "Thank you."<p>

[-]

_No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone,  
>No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden,<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love,  
>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love,<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world._

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Blinding" by Florence + The Machine

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for Coup de Grâce<strong>

**Dalish Elf**: Was that rating because of the wait? ; 3; Aww... Anyway, hope you liked this one. I know it's all drama but it had to be.

**Moral Attention**: I would really like to write more Isabela and Morrigan banters... But it seemed impossible with the timing and such in the DA universe. Maybe in a modern AU I can write them battling with their wits endlessly! Haha. I've thought about a modern AU but it hasn't developed enough for a fan fiction yet. And yes, that's the whole point of that chapter... To start out happy then be totally depressed at the end. Don't worry, there's some more plot twists I have in store. You won't expect it but don't be completely bummed they're done. :p As for Ophelia dead... I personally don't wanna kill off my OC so I think I might go with my other plan but it might be too much to handle for some people... I guess they'll just have to deal with it when it comes. XD

**Sagnus**: Thanks for the ratings. And I had to leave it that way for the drama... Did you read the part after the song lyrics when their hands detach? Meaning Morrigan's determination to end it? That's where it's supposed to end, I hope you didn't skip it. XD

**Andy Lewis**: We don't really know how vital the OGB is to Morrigan, but whatever you did in the game, she leaves. So that's how I perceived her character. Never able to go to happyland with the Warden... Yet, anyway? xP

**whiskered oranges**: I never used pots either. Just the basic lesser poultice when needed. And really, try making a rogue with just dexterity and cunning pumped and get the best gear and skills for her... The whole game becomes a cakewalk. And I know there are other overpowered classes, but yea... Try it. Aww... I wanted you to bawl your eyes out. No really, I wanted at least one reader to cry. XD It had to be done for me to move on with the other plot twists. You won't be so disappointed in the end though, I think... And lol. Narnia. Yes! Bon Iver makes me cry inside! ; 3; Isabela's personality is really awesome too. I probably would be torn apart a little if I had to choose between them. But in the end, I'll choose Morrigan. Her voice is just perfect. Wins me over. XD

**Arf-Arf-Psycho**: :O Thanks for reviewing again! How cool is that. Yes, the blow of mercy. I really couldn't name it with anything better. XD DID YOU CRY? PLEASE TELL ME YOU CRIED. I WANT TO HEAR SOMEONE TRULY SHED A TEAR. XD

**CrimsonNoble**: Oh sweet jizzuz. Your caps scare me. I hope you're not mad. XD And I don't know... I trusted you would figure out that I saved the drama for last so it would be really shocking. If it was my intention to start it off at the beginning or middle... Trust me, I would've done that. But I wanted to emphasize that all Morrigan needed as a motivation to break it off was the thought of Ophelia dying for her beauty. I could've written more about the metaphor but I didn't because I trusted you would know. If I wrote more, exploring Morrigan's feelings, then it could've been more cheesy. And also, I wrote Leliana talking about the moth to get Morrigan's attention. She was too lost in her thoughts at that moment. And the marriage thing was lighthearted. Ophelia wasn't really serious, she was just saying that because Morrigan looks really good and could be ready for a wedding. But I guess if I did want drama at that point, I could've used that as a starting route, yes.

Thanks for reviewing everyone! Review again please.

* * *

><p>AN: So sorry again for the wait. I am drawing more this time and balancing my writing with my drawing. I feel like if I force myself to write when I'm bored, I'll half-ass it...

More of Ophelia's dark side showing! I do like a little crazy. It's sexy to me. Haha. I hope the fight scene's not too stupid. Lol. The next chapter won't be as dramatic. And Ophelia would be calmer then.

And btw, tell me which love triangle you were anticipating at the start if you did. ;D

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	13. Chapter 13 You Are The Forest

\

_Minor Edit: April 3rd, 2014_

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 13 - <strong>You Are The Forest<strong>

* * *

><p><em>She sings from somewhere you can't see,<br>She sits in the top of the greenest tree,  
>She sends out an aroma of undefined love,<br>It drips on down in a mist from above._

[-]

"Good morning," Leliana articulated sweetly, her head separating the fabric openings of Ophelia's tent to peep inside, "Breakfast is ready."

"Morning," Ophelia replied with a faint rise of the corners of her lips then she redirected her concentration to the small mirror she held steadily, preparing to paint her lips black.

"I can fix your meal for you, would you like that?"

Ophelia merely bobbed her head once, her focus on drawing a clean line. The task usually took about a mere five seconds, her common habit not to waste time on one thing. But ten stifling feet away from the red head she stood rigid, gliding the thin brush against her upper lip at a leisure pace.

With a fleeting flash of her amiable mien, Leliana accepted the subtle answer then left quietly.

It was the third day since Ophelia had allowed the bard to help ease her restlessness, and she had become calmer thanks to her. The serving of food, the taking up on her supplementary chores, the soothing reassurances before they parted ways, the nightly checkup on her before she slept… Although in another aspect, she had not experienced such duteous care from anyone aside from her mother. Aware that the unusual devotion was mainly because her emotional state was quite fragile at present, she went with Leliana's humbling treatment without disagreement.

Three rounds of lipstick application later, Ophelia finished with the cosmetic then inserted the utensil in a bag with the rest of her vanity items. Afterwards, she scrutinized her reflection on the looking glass she remained to clutch. Her countenance was strictly stoic, along with her tapered eyes and straight brows.

_"Good morning."_

Leliana's voice echoed in her mind, reminding her to be optimistic for the day like she had yesterday.

Then out of a whim, she rubbed her lips together and suddenly – her eyes softened and her brows arched in slight angst.

How the miniscule pang of painful remembrance seeped into her heedless awareness and choked her. Morrigan used to be the one to visit her every morning and complain over something that wasn't important or lecture her over something that was. There was never an exchange of "good morning's" between them, the railleries with the witch used to be all she needed to start a great day…

…She missed her horribly. Even though Morrigan still traveled with them and was virtually in her arm's reach at times… She missed her.

_But it was over. No matter how much good they could've been together…_

_She was just a girl that she wanted._

Ophelia exhaled gently, her lungs deflating and her shoulders relaxing as she released herself from the chokehold. And through renewed resolve, she departed her encampment with a steadfast pace and face.

The sun was lustrously welcoming above her, its radiance a comforting warmth to the otherwise cold daybreak. Without sparing a glance for Morrigan's camp approximately ten yards apart from hers, she hurriedly marched towards the larger campsite, the wind urging her forward and the trees rustling to cheer her on.

Her boots clicked in a rhythm her group instantly identified as her way of announcing her presence and demand for their attention, so the detached members gathered with the others and eagerly anticipated her arrival by the dead bonfire.

Upon Ophelia's halt in front of them, Leliana approached her with a bowl and warm mug in hand and offered, "Breakfast…" Her cerulean eyes twinkled with a pleasant shine as she handed the food to her with a noticeable graze of her supportive fingers.

"Thanks," Ophelia acknowledged firmly then watched Leliana tuck loose tresses behind an ear before veering to reclaim her place on the table next to Wynne.

Alistair, Wynne, Zevran, and Oghren said their words of greetings then everyone stared at their ambivalent leader intently for a word, their positions scattered randomly about the area but not their observation.

"As we've discussed last night, today we'll head inside the elven tombs. So…" Ophelia declared with a minor smile, "Eat well." They nodded in understanding then she subsequently moved to settle on the bench neighboring Zevran. Sensing him scoot a centimeter farther as if to provide personal space for her, she intoned, "I'm sorry if you still feel uncomfortable around me…"

He shook his head lightly in negation, "No-no! I do not feel uncomfortable." Placing a hand on her pauldron, he assured with an honest and definite tone, "Truly... Not anymore." He _had_ been visibly uncomfortable the following morning of their predicament but after her official apology, he had slowly recovered from the ordeal.

"You should know… I wish to go back to _exactly _how our friendship was before," she emphasized sternly in their fixated rivet, "I didn't want it to be sabotaged as well…"

"Don't worry. It is not," he chuckled briefly then reintroduced the flattering moniker, "My sweet _sweet _woman."

Upon the witticism, Ophelia giggled feebly along with Leliana across the table.

"It is a refreshing feeling to see you both chuckling merrily again," Wynne remarked delightfully, referring to Zevran and Ophelia who demonstrated an inconsiderate eye roll for the elf.

[-]

_She's just the girl, she's just the girl,  
>The girl you want,<br>She's just the girl, she's just the girl,  
>That you want.<em>

[-]

"_Shoo! _You unbearable mutt!" Morrigan swished her staff repeatedly outwards to repel the meddling dog.

Nutella dodged her attempts and barked conversationally, his manner somewhat angry that it surprised Morrigan.

"I have given you plenty already you foul-smelling mongrel! What more could you possibly want from me?" she questioned with equal animosity.

In the perfect opportunity, he bit her skirt then snarled lowly as he tugged on it in persuasion to pull her into movement.

She gasped tetchily, "Stop! Stop!" then she infuriatingly exclaimed, fighting to keep her bearing and skirt intact, "Or I swear I will beat you like you deserve!" But the mighty hound kept his jerking, thus, she pounded him cripplingly with her staff.

For half a minute they tussled crossly, neither willing to surrender.

When Morrigan finally dropped the futile hammering and snapped fire from her fingers, Zevran barged into her tent with a quirked eyebrow, "Do you require any assistance in your distress, madam?"

Nutella stopped with his forceful coercion then faced Zevran and barked enthusiastically.

"Go on my furry friend," Zevran cordially dismissed Nutella by showing him the brightness of the outside, "There is a wonderful treat for you from your master."

The mabari cocked his head then grinned in compliance, ambling for his exit noiselessly.

Once the war dog was shown away, Morrigan immediately sighed impatiently, "What is it, Zevran? What task am I being assigned today?"

"This might come as a surprise..." Zevran informed solemnly, "But Ophelia wants you in her team that will infiltrate the werewolves' lair. She also mentioned specifically that you must eat substantially for there might not be any rest."

"Not too surprising..." she folded arms, reflecting on why it wasn't unexpected.

In every critical mission: Redcliffe, the Circle Tower, and Orzammar, Ophelia had brought Morrigan with her, esteeming that she was one of her most valuable members. Not because they had shared a bedroll, but solely because of her flexible talents and abilities in magic. Regardless of the quarrels that ensued, in the heat of conflict, they coordinated outstandingly.

"I have sent the message, now it is time for me to leave," Zevran concluded then swiftly pivoted around.

"Wait Zevran," Morrigan stated flatly, "I want of you to know that I am––"

Recognizing accurately what she opted to say, he peered behind his shoulder and proclaimed with sobriety, "You have decided. If you were genuinely sorry, you would've returned to her. There is no need." Prior to completely slipping out of her tent, he dispensed a few more words for her, "Take care."

Morrigan froze with her mouth partly agape, unsure of what to feel.

[-]

_You hear her calling everywhere you turn,  
>You know you're headed for the pleasure burn,<br>But the words get stuck on the tip of your tongue,  
>She's the real thing but you knew it all along.<em>

_She's just the girl, she's just the girl,_  
><em>The girl you want,<em>  
><em>She's just the girl, she's just the girl,<em>  
><em>That you want.<em>

[-]

Seven hours had passed since the second Ophelia's team began their extensive journey through the Brecilian forest and into the enormous multileveled elven tomb. The ancient Tevinter ruins crawled with imperious demons, lumbering skeletons, humungous spiders, disturbed spirits, and, lastly, the unreasonably violent werewolves they sought for.

Wynne, Zevran, and Shale were posted outside while Ophelia led Morrigan, Leliana, and Alistair down to the core of the werewolves' lair without much agony, only their growing fatigue hindering them. Due to the more grueling and gruesome experience all the way inside the Deep Roads (which had expanded for days,) Ophelia and Morrigan had the most stable composure compared to Alistair and Leliana who seemed fretful to continue as evening fell.

Now, they lined side by side behind Zathrian, the Dalish elven keeper who mysteriously trailed their progress, appeared before them, then divulged that he started the curse that turned men and women into werewolves. They listened as he conversed with Witherfang, the compassionate lady of the forest who lead the werewolves and pacified them when their struggle for freedom became uncalled for.

Witherfang pleaded Zathrian for a peaceful removal of the curse, explaining that it had caused enough suffering amongst them and the Dalish they had attacked and infected. But he declined, arguing that the werewolves' ancestors had inflicted upon him a severe sorrow by capturing his children, torturing and murdering his son, and raping his daughter then leaving her for dead.

The ceilings of the old yet majestic room stretched high, leaves and sprinkles of dust descending visibly in dim cylinder beams of moonlight. The intricately decorated walls not covered with vines or outgrown by trees were cracked yet sturdy, encasing a crowded floor of sneering werewolves.

Dozens of cinereal, russet, and stygian furred bipedal beasts glared at the man with pointed ears who stepped forward with his staff and affirmed, "My retribution is eternal, spirit, as is my pain. This is justice, no more."

Witherfang probed further, her eloquence enveloped with kindness, "Are you certain your pain is the only reason why you will not end this curse? Have you told the mortal how it was created?"

Ophelia spoke for herself, congealing her stance, "He said he summoned you and bound you to a wolf."

"And so he did. Witherfang and I are bound as one being. But such powerful magic could not be accomplished without Zathrian's own blood." Crossing her pine complexioned arms together, the spirit made known, "Your people believe you have rediscovered the immortality of their ancestors, Zathrian, but that is not true. So long as the curse exists, so do you."

"No. That is not how it is," Zathrian objected dourly.

"So would Zathrian's death end the curse?" Ophelia inquired with a vague demeanor, not particularly taking sides.

"No. The curse has a life of its own. Though Zathrian's life depends on it, his death plays a part in its ending, however."

"Then we kill him! We tear him apart now!" Swiftrunner bellowed wrathfully, brandishing his claws in a daunting fashion. He was the lieutenant werewolf, second in command to Witherfang.

"For all your powers of speech, you are a beast still!" Zathrian noted the werewolf's knack to speak then cautioned, "What would you gain from killing me? Only I know how the ritual ends, and I will never do it!"

"You see?" Swiftrunner regarded Witherfang and advised, "We must kill them all!"

Simultaneously, Zathrian regarded Ophelia and advised, "See? They turn on you as quickly. Do what you have come here to do, Grey Warden, or get out of my way."

Realizing that the keeper had become the antagonist, Ophelia snapped, "You'll end that curse if I have to force you myself!"

His tattooed face scrunched in ire as he admonished the intrusive Grey Warden, "Then you die with them! All of you will suffer as you deserve!" With a preemptive thrust of his staff upwards, it erupted entropic energy and encaged everyone in an eerie chamber, paralyzing each cognizant creature in the room before he distanced himself from the pack.

The minute the ground trembled as he summoned four imposing sentient trees called sylvans, Ophelia forced through gritted teeth: "_Morrigan…_"

Morrigan heard her and shut her vision and other senses, immersed on amassing her willpower. Then upon unsealing her eyes, a momentary burst of ethereal blue mist engulfed them, dispelling the paralysis barrier that imprisoned them.

"Ward off the enemies! I'll deal with Zathrian!" In a blaze, Ophelia unsheathed her daggers and sprinted towards the veteran elf that was in the middle of casting advanced tier destruction spells.

Two thin but tall treants progressed on her, swinging their spiny branches in tandem with each stomp. But with their size significantly bigger than hers, she had no difficulty deftly going around their swaying timber limbs. Eventually, Morrigan's flames had graced their wooden physique and the witch received their aggressive interests.

Then upon approaching Zathrian, she loosened her side-cape from her belt in prep for his magical attack. Aligning his staff, he projected a terrible ice storm on top of her. She draped herself and determinedly pushed through, ignoring the numbing stabs of tiny icicles that scraped her unprotected skin or pierced her medium armor.

Bit by bit, she got to the edge of the blizzard and searched for Zathrian. The blood mage had retreated even farther near a wall and bidden two greater shades to assist him. She cringed as they transmitted a disorienting hex to her and abruptly, her perception was polluted with millions of dots. Trusting her other senses, she temporarily paused and became stationary to let the obscurity dissipate.

Discerning the ghastly moans close to her, she resumed back to reality and clashed with the foul demons. Effortlessly, she evaded their physical and paranormal assaults and dispatched them with sharp incisions to their crowns. Then she walked unhurriedly for her final target, twirling a stiletto in her hand.

At last, Zathrian was in her range and she flung the weightless weapon to him. He swung his staff in time and deflected it with a gust of cool wind, but the first was permitted to miss and she slung another with more vigor. The stiletto split the air and hit him square on the chest, causing him to slump on the stone floor.

Ophelia moseyed to his prone frame and glowered at him as he beseeched with broad yet cowering eyes, "No! No more! I-I cannot… Cannot defeat you…" To lessen the ache, he clasped the blade on his wound still, then he winced as she grabbed him by an arm and hauled him to the subsiding fray.

When all the burnt sylvans collapsed with earthly grunts, Swiftrunner promptly met with them and demanded, "Finish it. Kill him now."

Not too long after, Witherfang, the remainder of the werewolves, and Ophelia's group assembled in a circle around them and scrutinized the bald Dalish.

The lady of the forest then reprimanded the alpha werewolf, sympathy obvious on her anxious face, "No Swiftrunner. We will not kill him. If there is no room in our hearts for mercy, how may we expect there to be room in his?"

Ophelia unrestrained Zathrian casually then he kneeled and expounded on his obstinacy, panting for breath, "I cannot do as you ask, spirit. I am too old… To know mercy. All I see are the faces of my children… My people. I… I cannot do it."

Ophelia criticized him condescendingly from disbelief, "Would you really let your clan die? For this?"

"Perhaps I have… Lived too long. This hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root… It has consumed my soul," he gulped then gazed at Witherfang inquisitively, "What of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse just as I am. Do you not fear your end?"

"You are my maker, Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life. Yet of all things I desire nothing more than an end… I beg you, maker… Put an end to me. We beg you… Show mercy," Witherfang elaborated with her utmost compassion.

Everybody pored over the elderly man as he bowed his head in deliberation for a minute, contemplating whether he would lift the curse or not.

In the course of the interval, the presence of smoke became more distinct to Ophelia, its billowing odor crisply acrid.

Soon enough, Zathrian politely retrieved his staff from Ophelia and used it to prop himself up. He confessed with guilt, "You shame me, spirit. I am an old man… Alive long past his time."

"Then you will do it? You will end the curse?" the lady's ebony eyes lit up with reprieve.

"Yes. I think it is time," he decreed irrefutably, "Let us… Let us put an end to it all."

The crowd examined him intently as he modeled a sad smile before pounding the base of his staff on the soil. It relinquished a soothing wave of energy throughout the room then instantaneously, his eyeballs spun to white and he plummeted to the dirt as a lifeless man.

They traded hopeful gawps… Though… Nothing.

Witherfang bent her head despairingly, grasping that Zathrian perished but nothing happened. Doing the only thing he could do, Swiftrunner placed a consoling palm on her shoulder and scowled with her.

Then Witherfang's form unpredictably gleamed immaculately. Amazed, she isolated herself from the werewolves and spread her arms wide open, welcoming her demise. Gradually, she disintegrated into a shining ivory rain that rose skywards.

In harmony, the mystical process of transformation began to overtake the werewolves' bodies and they groaned, their bodies glowing.

With the entire area illuminated with serene light, Ophelia's party stayed motionless, only their shadows frolicking gracefully on the surface.

During the spectacle that captivated Alistair and Leliana, Ophelia's sights accidentally wandered across the hall, towards a brunette who was upright but inconspicuously gripped at the lateral side of her waist.

Mutedly gasping from awareness of her injury, she strode to her aid. Noticing some of the blood that trickled through her hand, she mouthed concernedly, "Morrigan…"

Morrigan signaled an uncaring hand, unclenched her teeth, then uttered, "I'm fine… Just a poke from a stick. 'Tis not serious."

Ophelia wordlessly blinked for a couple of seconds, gawking blankly at the sorceress. But choosing not to succumb to the bluff, she leaned to her eye level and beheld her. Then resting a hand on her shoulder, she ordered decisively, "I'll take you to Wynne, _now_."

[-]

_Look at you with your mouth watering,  
>Look at you with your mind spinning,<br>Why don't we just admit it's all over,  
>She's just the girl you want.<em>

_She's just the girl, she's just the girl,_  
><em>The girl you want,<em>  
><em>She's just the girl, she's just the girl,<em>  
><em>That you want.<em>

[-]

With the moon floating a gallant silver above and the trees wavering around a bundle of evergreen, Leliana drew near her tautly pacing leader at a campfire remote from their campground.

Ophelia halted upon seeing her and unstiffened her posture. "How is she?"

Subsequent to the werewolves' freedom from the curse, Morrigan had been taken to camp and mended by the senior enchanter. Ophelia hadn't seen her since she had left her in Wynne's hands.

"She's doing well. Wynne had supported her significantly in healing," Leliana limply gripped at her own forearm in mild trepidation, "Are you… Still very worried about her?"

Ophelia simpered self-consciously, "Is there any sense in saying that I do or in lying that I don't?"

"N~no… I… I guess not." Leliana bit her lip diffidently.

"There's no doubt that she's a strong woman," Ophelia clarified, playing with a rock using her boots. "I know and I don't have to worry…" Then she admitted, kicking the pebble five meters away from her, "But I can't help it…"

Leliana ambled closer and laid a hand on her bicep, "Will it soothe you to see her?"

"I'm not sure…" the rogue shrugged impassively, "I might end up infuriating myself in its place…"

"The way you handled everything today…" Leliana solaced, "I'm confident that you can confront her alone and handle it."

Ophelia snickered tentatively, "Should I really expose myself where temptation could arise and I do something crazy?"

"Yes. Because you will turn away and you will be stronger for it," Leliana genially elucidated on her plot, "Then you can move on. It's okay to see her to make sure she's alright. She did work very hard in the battle… And she is our colleague and... Our friend."

At the last word, Ophelia swallowed her unease, absorbing the bard's point.

"I can wait outside of her tent and be there for you... If anything should happen."

Ophelia clinched the red head's offered hand and agreed, "Okay."

[-]

_She sings from somewhere you can't see,  
>She sits in the top of the greenest tree,<br>She sends out an aroma of undefined lust,  
>It drips on down in a mist from above.<em>

_She's just the girl, she's just the girl,_  
><em>The girl you want,<em>  
><em>She's just the girl, she's just the girl,<em>  
><em>That you want.<em>

[-]

As soon as Ophelia stepped inside Morrigan's tent, the sorceress murmured dismissively, "The cut is nearly fully knit, if that is why you've come here..." She was sitting on her bedroll, hunched over with one hand by her abdomen. The weak pulsating glow that emanated from her palm illumined an austere mask on her inwardly wounded visage.

"That and… I heard a rumor..." Ophelia revealed indifferently, a hint of suspicion gracing her articulation. Though her silver eyes were at Morrigan's direction, she did not gaze at the witch directly.

"Rumor?" Morrigan echoed as a query, arching a brow to Ophelia's boots.

"That you have a plan..."

"Plan?"

Ophelia scoffed lightheartedly, combing her fingers through her hair impulsively, "Nothing. I just wanted to see if you would say something..."

Morrigan's head drooped a little from hidden relief, "Such a deceiver, you are..." Then she reversed their roles with a consoling remark, "I'm glad you're feeling better."

_Was she the one that came to her for consolation, after all?_

"Am I?" Ophelia ascertained, her voice evidently skeptical, "Or am I just convincing myself?"

"Do not speak that way..." Morrigan droned, half-annoyed and half-apprehensive. "Let it go and you can be happy," she added resolutely.

_Look at you with your mouth watering,  
>Look at you with your mind spinning,<br>Why don't we just admit it's all over,  
>She's just the girl you want.<em>

"I..." Ophelia delayed, hesitant whether to give it a go or 'let it go.' She had a thousand ripostes in her ammunition, waiting to be fired. But with her newfound self-control, she reconsidered, "I'll walk away now before I do something I'll regret..."

"Yes, that would be better."

Then she vanished with a loud and swift flap of fabric.

[-]

_She's just the girl, she's just the girl,_  
><em>The girl you want,<em>  
><em>She's just the girl, just the girl,<em>  
><em>The girl you want,<em>  
><em>She's just the girl, she's just the girl,<em>  
><em>The girl you want,<em>  
><em>She's just the girl, she's just the girl.<em>

/

_These trees are bent and torn,  
>The veins of their core,<br>Are ripped out and tangled across the floor,  
>The harsh side of nature,<br>To which I adore,  
>Taking comfort from the thorns.<em>

[-]

Days went by in the Brecilian outskirts where neither Morrigan nor Ophelia talked or looked at each other. Sometimes, they got close enough to slightly acknowledge each other's presence, maneuvering around to go past another, but neither ever made contact. If Ophelia had to tell Morrigan something, Zevran was utilized as her messenger.

On the other hand, Ophelia and Leliana had grown fonder of each other. Where previously, Morrigan accompanied the female Warden everywhere - now, Leliana accompanied her. In all their side questing in the Dalish residence, Leliana happily tailed Ophelia.

Likewise, Ophelia found enjoyment with Leliana as well. There was no effort in annoying or embarrassing the archer, she made it too easy. Where with Morrigan she had to be a saint to aggravate – with Leliana, she just had to be a tad perverse.

And in everything they did together – Morrigan secretly stalked them in the shadows as a prowling wolf, a sneaking cat, an unreachable bird, or a camouflaged lizard.

The deed had consumed her. As much as their foolishness bothered her inside, she kept stalking them mercilessly, skipping meals and much needed respite. When they were not at their camp, she had been oblivious to her own health chasing them.

Underneath a caravan and out of the sun's hospitality, she skulked silently. Her cat eyes zoomed far to a farmstead, observing Ophelia pet a frail silver horned stag while the Antivan and Orlesian chuckled nearby.

"There's a good halla…" the deer became tranquil at Ophelia's tender touch, "Now why don't you tell me what's disconcerting you…" she inclined to have her ears by the halla's mouth as if it would speak.

Leliana giggled at the enactment, "That won't work, Ophelia…"

"What's that halla? This nonbeliever is upsetting you? Is that what?" Ophelia enquired to the halla while mockingly referring to Leliana.

"_Nonbeliever?_" Leliana reiterated in bafflement while Zevran sniggered fleetingly.

"Would you like for me to make this big bad stupid bully go away? Would you like that?"

"I'm not a big bad stupid bully… That's mean…"

"Calming her is good enough. I can take it from here," Elora, the halla keeper, courteously insisted.

"Let me read her. I don't back away from a challenge," Ophelia contested with grit.

"_Hehe_. C'mon Ophelia, let her do her job," Leliana hooked a hand unto the blonde's arm and heaved her. Ophelia grumbled complainingly but gave in anyway.

"Nonbeliever…"

After Elora communicated with the halla, she established that the animal's mate was hurt and that she feared for him. Elora thanked Ophelia for her help to the discovery, then the trio of rogues gleefully stirred to another area of the rather huge Dalish camp.

Consequently, the concealed cat discreetly shadowed them behind a merchant's table.

Spotting a young victim, Zevran tapped Ophelia for her attention then pointed toward a downcast hunter propped against a tree. They clustered for an agreement to learn about his problem and perhaps cheer him, then they proceeded onwards to him.

An exchange of introductions plus various moments later…

Ophelia analyzed the timid elf in front of her, "Have you tried wooing Gheyna, Cammen?"

"Wooing? I… Don't understand," Cammen shuddered a bit from awkward candor.

"Have you tried giving her a gift?" She patronizingly grilled him like he was Alistair who had failed an assignment.

He coyly sunk his head lower, "A gift? No… That wouldn't be appropriate. Not before we're married."

"How about _really _showing your love?"

"I've serenaded her and we talked many times under the moon. But that doesn't matter if I'm still an apprentice… Not to her."

"I suppose it is too much to ask if you've bedded her."

"Ophelia!" Leliana chimed in from pure shock. Concurrently, Zevran cackled impishly.

"No! We've never done anything like that! Never!" Cammen reeled an inch away from the pushy Grey Warden.

"You mean you're_ still_ a virgin?" Ophelia grinned in amusement.

"Ophelia…" Leliana voiced in protest again but without the tremor.

"Of course I am. Why would you think otherwise?"

"That happens to be very important, Cammen."

"Is it? Nobody tells me anything about that sort of thing."

Ophelia promiscuously reposed a forearm on his quaking shoulder, "Maybe it's time someone showed you what you're missing," she whispered licentiously and hit the tip of his nose with an index finger.

All the while, Zevran chortled as Leliana's jaw dropped.

"Show me? You-you mean… W-with _you_?" Cammen stuttered, downright appalled but rather flattered.

Ophelia startlingly disproved with an incredulous tone, "Of course not! You'll need someone your own size." She proudly patted Zevran on his back, "With this handsome elf, right here."

"Me?" Zevran took five seconds to crack up, then wiped his tears and asserted, "_Ohh_~ But I did learn from the best. _And _he is a cute little tyke, yes. I will do this for you, my sweet."

"B-but… He's a…" Cammen stammered.

"Don't make it too complicated. Start simple. Give him the basics," Ophelia brainstormed for Zevran, demonstrating with passionate thrusts of her pelvis to his rear, "Some of this..."

"No!" Leliana snuck in and blocked Cammen's view of the obnoxious comedians, "Don't mind them, Cammen. They're just joking. Zevran's not going to do anything with you." She bent her head to stop Ophelia from protracting her manly groaning, "Stop it, Ophelia. You're mentally wounding him!" However, she didn't stop.

Their buffoonery stretched on until sooner or later, Cammen was guided the proper way and Ophelia persuaded Gheyna to give Cammen a shot. Ultimately, the two Dalish elves professed their love for each other and Leliana was contented that Ophelia had enabled for their young love to flourish.

[-]

_So say what you need,  
>I'm not here to think,<br>Say what you feel,  
>And I will watch you sleep,<br>For one last time._

[-]

Idle chatter spread within a dining table that consisted of Ophelia and most of her teammates. She had changed the evening that was solemnly soundless when her threesome gang returned to their camp with a basket full of ingredients. In truth, their festive gathering could be more fulfilling if every single member were present, including Morrigan.

But Ophelia didn't care if the witch preferred her solitude once again, only appearing fifty feet from them to grab her food furtively from a buffet station.

However, Leliana detected her, excusing herself from supper with a plausible lie. She immediately rose from her seat then advanced to her, embedding courage within each of her step in order to converse with the dark head.

"Morrigan..." she called the mage who scooped from a pot bereft of a word. Noticing her increased paleness and hollowed eyes, she quizzed, "Are you okay? You look slightly… Weary."

Morrigan remained quiet, transferring the meal to her dish.

Replacing the topic to attract feedback, Leliana demanded, "Anyway, I've been meaning to ask… What did you mean by save her?"

Morrigan refrained to gaze at her but paused and stated nonchalantly, "Have you told anyone?"

Astonished she received a reaction, Leliana answered, "No, I haven't. I didn't want to cause unnecessary belligerence towards you... And I won't, because they didn't see you that way that night... And causing more drama will only bring encumbrance to the group." During her heartfelt reasoning, they had slowly drifted away and headed towards Morrigan's tent, their weightless feet trampling over grass. "But I want to know... Is Ophelia really in trouble?" She insisted while following her in strides.

"As a Grey Warden, she is already in a lifetime of trouble. There is no remedy for that," Morrigan enlightened without emotion, "Needless to say, there will come an inevitable moment when she will need me and I will be there."

"Please... Tell me more."

Morrigan stopped and finally stared her down, gold and sapphire a mere five inch in proximity, "No. I have said more than enough. Merely have faith that I will save her."

"I beg you, Morrigan! What will happen to her?" Leliana appealed, her countenance ruthlessly desperate.

"Quit with your pestering and leave me."

As the enchantress spun around, Leliana announced gravely, "On her behalf... I hope this is what you truly want…" She encircled Morrigan and challenged her, their eyes locked resolutely, "Because once I love her and she loves me back…" With a newly sharpened tongue, the bard spat hurtfully, "She's mine."

Then Leliana stormed past her, intentionally clashing a tough side against her.

Morrigan shivered internally, lost for words.

[-]

_And you know just as I,  
>These trees focus best in the light,<br>I'm not trying to bend the rules,  
>Magnifying all that's obtuse,<br>Feel the rush of blood to my head,  
>And I know I've been made a fool.<em>

[-]

High up in the shelter of a tree and as a crow, Morrigan studied Alistair while he inspected his own laundry meticulously, nestling on a stool and wondering if it was actually washed by Wynne.

He sniffed at the dried clothing then recoiled from its repugnance, scrunching his nose and flinching like a woman who had unintentionally taken a whiff of oxygen around Oghren.

_What a dim-witted fool... It was ridiculous that he was her one and only route._

She hovered down into a bush of grass and dawdled, picking her next course of action.

_He was her sole route. There was no other.  
><em>  
>Affirming in her thoughts that her purpose outweighs her intolerance, she christened as a human, "Alistair," then she ambled to the templar and admitted, "I have a question to ask of you."<p>

"Huh?" Alistair pivoted around and tracked her voice. After finding her standing behind him, he scratched his neck, unsure of how to respond, "Well, this is certainly new... You coming to me with a question to ask."

"I did not come to babble. Be serious as I am," she reproached with a firm gesture, not keen on wasting time.

He sighed, "Alright. On one condition..." then he stood and negotiated, "An answer for yours for an answer to mine."

She scoffed.

_He certainly had been built in character..._

Which was... To her advantage.

She bowled her eyes transitorily but yielded, "Fine. 'Tis a deal. Ask your question."

"Splendid," he faked the enthusiastic comment then faked an indifferent query, "So, is it true? That you dumped Ophelia and there are absolutely no chances of rekindling the flame?"

"Yes. 'Tis done."

"Then in the midst of all that changing, in essence, you've become more of a bitch than less," he retained the apathetic facade.

"Since you are not aware of the details, Alistair, I will allow that little comment to slide," Morrigan rebuked then swiftly forced her turn, "Now then, for my question... Are you truly set on becoming king?"

Alistair almost winced from bewilderment, her inquisitiveness uncalled for, "What a weird question, coming from you..." He scrubbed his stubble chin momentarily to contemplate, "No. Not really... But if I must, I will. Ophelia would've prepped me well enough by then, I hope. Why do you ask?"

She bypassed his enquiry by prying, "Come a circumstance that warrants it, will you be prepared to make your own decision?"

"_Err_–yes. I would think so. Given proper time to deliberate. Why the questions again?" he attempted once more.

Inhaling profoundly at first, she then granted him an answer, "I wanted to make sure that you are ready."

"Ready? Ready to become king?" he assumed, curious and flabbergasted.

"To be a man and protect your beloved Warden in the critical time that you must," Morrigan corrected, semi-aggravated by the senseless probing.

"Oh. So when it boils down to it, this is about Ophelia... Not you actually caring for my well-being..." Alistair snorted, "I kind of figured this much."

"I should congratulate Ophelia, you have indeed gone from a brainless toadstool to something exceedingly beyond that," she complimented, sarcasm gracing her tone.

Unable to counter her wit properly, he resorted to self-humiliation, "Glad you noticed. I did work very hard just to get past a brainless toadstool." Here, she planted a foot in a different direction, prepared to leisurely flee. To prevent her from escaping so soon, he prodded further, "You sound like you care about her, but do you really? Or is there some other outlying reason why you should be?"

"I care for her. We might not be an item now, but as it stands, I care for her deeply," she confessed simply.

"You're utterly confusing..." Alistair reclaimed his seat then blurted out his confusion, "I've given up my suspicions long ago when you and Ophelia had begun your..." he hesitated to reword his opinion, "I know there is something meaningful between you two... But I can't help but think that you really must be... Plotting something disagreeable to leave her."

"I needn't explain myself to you. Think what you will," Morrigan deflected easily, staring off into the distance where Ophelia might be, "I am here for her."

"_Riii~ght_..."

"Believe me, Alistair..." she finalized doggedly, "If I have a malicious intent... She will deal with me herself," then she veered away in avoidance of additional interrogation, leaving a gaping Alistair to think on his own.

[-]

_So say what you need,  
>I'm not here to think,<br>Say what you feel,  
>And I will watch you sleep,<br>For one last time._

[-]

A full moon loomed higher and higher as the peaceful night grew older and winter's temperature grew colder, most of the party prematurely sinking into their tents and sleeping.

Leliana snuggled into Ophelia, the bonfire's heat insufficient. Sniffing the noblewoman's tantalizing aroma, she muttered, "I was just thinking about what happened to the elves and I… Am reminded of a song sung to me, many years ago," she continued sincerely, "It was… When my mother died, and this wise elven woman comforted me and told me that we shouldn't fear death, or hate it. Death is just another beginning. One day we must all shed our earthly bodies to allow our spirits to fly free."

"That is comforting," Ophelia remarked, counting the sparks of fire that performed a circus in front of her.

"It's a beautiful sentiment, I think – one that brings peace and hope to the grieving," Leliana murmured, curling even more into Ophelia's side.

She lingered in the one-way embrace, simply glad that Ophelia didn't budge to remove her. Then out of a fancy, she parted her lips and began to sing the song she mentioned.

While still pressed against Ophelia, the first few elven words she delivered were in a low and lulling voice.

_Hahren na melana sahlin._

Ophelia peeked down at her, stunned by the gentle melody.

_Emma ir abelas,  
>Souver'inan isala hamin.<em>

Then, Leliana eventually sat up and beheld the attentive rogue, enunciating each verse with more fervor that melted previously rock-solid diamond eyes.

_Vhenan him dor'felas,  
>In uthenera na revas.<em>

Her divine voice resounded in the midnight like the hymn to open the gates to the Golden City. It was terribly endearing that it carried Ophelia away from her burdens like a plume in a waft.

_Vir sulahn'nehn,  
>Vir dirthera,<br>Vir samahl la numin,  
>Vir lath sa'vunin.<em>

"_Wow..._" Ophelia spontaneously expressed from sheer amazement when Leliana concluded with a devout a smile, "I had no idea you could sing like that."

Leliana smirked modestly, "There are a lot of things you don't know about me..."

"_Oooh~ _That's a scary thought…" Ophelia jested.

"Not in that way..."

"Tell me then," she reclined rearwards, putting her elbows on the grass.

"I've always..." Leliana crawled closer to her and crooned, "Liked you..."

"_Mmhmm. _What else is new?"

"Don't be so conceited," she scolded quite irritably then made clear with palpable envy, "For a time, I was jealous. Jealous of her... Because you liked her."

"I…" Ophelia subtly swallowed, guilty of already knowing, "Apologize."

"It isn't your fault," Leliana mumbled dismayingly, "We love those we can't have…"

"You're implying…" Ophelia couldn't finish her sentence, the rest of it sorely too true.

For a while, they stared knowingly at each other – their secrets, feebleness, and shame mutual in that instance. But then Leliana suddenly rubbed at her arms, pretending to quiver, "It is... It is getting cold out here... I should..." She was the first to surrender, unable to handle more of what could be self-disgrace if she hanged on.

And yet… Ophelia rapidly straightened before she could run off and proposed, "Let me come with you."

Leliana seized her breath.

[-]

_You are the forest, it's true,  
>I'm looking through the leaves,<br>Just like I look through you,  
>There too high up,<br>I'm too far down,  
>And as ever, my feet don't touch the ground.<em>

[-]

"Are you okay…" Ophelia slipped a hand into Leliana's pants but desisted from descending further. "…With this?"

"Please don't think…" Leliana kissed her on the cheek for encouragement. "Just _feel_…"

Ophelia narrowed her eyes doubtingly.

_Should she?_

She crumpled her eyes shut then claimed Leliana's mouth, fervently shoving her tongue against hers dominantly.

_Her movements were… Loving._

_The way she clung to her so tightly but not painfully._

_And she tasted… Different._

_Sweeter but lacking in spice…_

Leliana moaned into her mouth and broke her abstraction.

_She was comparing them…_

Ophelia's eyes shot open, "I'm sorry…" she declared wretchedly, "But I _am _thinking…"

Leliana scowled sadly, then cupped her face and absolved, "It's okay… I… I can wait."

"Sorry…" Ophelia unfastened herself from the bard, shamefully casting her head down as she got up to leave.

The minute Ophelia stayed at a standstill by the exit, Leliana guaranteed, "It's okay…"

Then Ophelia departed in silence.

But she was only gone for a second.

Leliana's heart palpitated as the scoundrel returned to her tent with a resilient and indomitable aura. "Ophelia?"

"_Shh… _No more talking…" Pinning her hands above her head, Ophelia shushed her with a deep, breath-taking kiss.

It was in that excruciating moment that Morrigan stopped. She slid an ample amount of distance away from their tent as a lizard then urgently morphed back into her usual, more comfortable form and decided for it to be the end of her spying.

She accelerated quicker and quicker through an empty field, striving to keep her poise just enough to acquire an expanse of space. Then in the comfort of the forest's inviting shelter – did she set all her tears to plunge down her chin and unto her fists which balled into her trembling lap.

[-]

_You are the forest it's true,  
>And I wish you weren't,<br>But you are the forest, it's true._

* * *

><p><strong>Songs<strong>

"Girl U Want" by Freelance Whales

"You Are The Forest" by Jack Hooper

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for Blinding<strong>

**lynn-writer**: Thank you! I hope you returned for this chapter. :)

**Dalish Elf**: Thank you! I'm surprised that everything was very catchy for you last chapter. It was an intense chapter, I suppose. Uhm... Not gonna give hints to how Ophelia would react. It's something surprising. :D And I'm so sorry! I know you hate me for this long update. XD I'll try to explain in the A/N...

**Moral Attention**: Yes... It's sad how Morrigan just can't have pure love and happiness because deep inside, she's still selfish. Sorry for taking so long on this update! D:

**whiskered oranges**: I hoard my money until I get about 200g then I start spending them on equipment. I really loot every single thing. Especially for this chapter's mission (the one with the werewolves) I always find myself needing to go back in the Dalish camp to sell stuff before I enter the last room. XD At level 20, my rogue's dexterity and cunning were equally about 50. Nothing hits her (except magic) and she hits everything (100% hit rate.) I use daggers so I never need more than the base 16(?) strength. With the help of accessories, her strength goes up enough to wield daggers that have 20 strength or whatever. Yes! I wanted to make all my readers cry. You know how powerful I would feel if you did? xD I think Witch Hunt will be in another story. Just for organizing purposes. Or I dunno... You think it would be a smarter idea to put it into this? I actually would have to develop my plot for that because I haven't daydreamed enough about it. LOL.

**your name**: XD Nice anon name. Thanks for reviewing and rating a 6 for the whole story...(?)

**The Art of Dark Angel**: You mean Morrigan? Hehe. And good I made you cry! I feel amazing after hearing that. XD Thanks for the rating. Hope you liked this chapter as much.

**betagamma**: Thank you! I'm very happy that I'm gaining new readers! I hope you came back for this! Your review surprised me. I actually had to come back and edit. XD

Thanks for reviewing everyone! Review again please.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay! I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. I just feel so lazy to write now. Is this what you call a writing block? Well... I know what to write. I have an outline in a notepad but it's just that... I start writing and I feel like... Ughhh. This is getting boring. Dx Maybe it's because Ophelia and Morrigan broke up that I don't feel as good about writing? XD

My laziness might've shown in this chapter. I'm not sure until I reread it. Definitely have to edit this some time...

So sorry... I think I might have to draw and draw for the time being until I get bored of drawing then move back to writing. I'm not sure...

About the songs... I was originally just going to have "You Are The Forest" for this chapter but then I remembered "Girl U Want" and thought that it was so relevant to how Ophelia feels for Morrigan (and Leliana to Ophelia) so I added it. I hope it didn't weird you guys out.

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	14. Chapter 14 God of Love

\

_Minor Edit: April 4th, 2014_

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 14 - <strong>God of Love<strong>

* * *

><p>Ophelia adjusted her multiple cuffs, making sure her wrists had room to twist freely. She then reached for her gloves next, swishing it once to empty it of any debris. As she was about to slip her right hand into one, she detected a friend had come in.<p>

In a few audible footsteps, she peered momentarily, "Hey Zevran, I was expecting you. Could you find Morrigan and make sure she's wearing enough layers for our trip?" she requested straightforwardly, not particularly looking at him.

Not wholly surprised of the order, Zevran grinned pleasantly, "Of course, my dear. I had expected for you to say that. That was exactly what I came for."

Ophelia snorted mutedly then mirrored his sarcasm, "I'm glad you know your place, slave," then she moseyed to him with a few things in her hands, "Bring these. Last I recall, she doesn't possess an abundance of clothing proper for extremely cold weather," she handed them to him simply.

"Oh. Attempting to get her to feel guilty again, are you?" Zevran chuckled while grabbing the objects, "Anything else?"

"Naturally," Ophelia answered his first question half-heartedly then she added, "And should she decline, tell her that I insist."

"Understood, my master," Zevran bowed obediently – to which Ophelia smiled and playfully pushed him, "I shall get to it," he finalized. He allowed her to pat him on the side once then he left promptly.

[-]

The thick cumulus clouds hid the unconfident sun and rendered a solemn tone, emphasizing the even more solemn morning. Tiny snowflakes sprinkled gently on Zevran's hair and navy cloak as he trudged downhill unto a shortened dock. The hooded woman on its wooden boards gazed blankly at the water's slight ripples, its subtle gloss leisurely dancing for her.

"Morrigan," Zevran called, waiting for the witch to turn before asking, "Is that all you will wear for our mission?" Under a cloak, she wore a variation of her regular outfit, covering her arms completely and flaunting less cleavage. It was more than her usual wear but it had only one layer.

"Yes," Morrigan's brow upturned, hinting her annoyance of the items she assumed was being delivered to her, "Is there a problem?"

"Wear these over your shirt. They are Ophelia's," Zevran offered, extending a hand out that held two black long sleeves.

Morrigan studied them carefully for a couple of seconds, her eyes matching their intricate golden trimming – she didn't need his words to know that they were Ophelia's. "I am not that cold," she declared in quick dismissal, waving a hand and pivoting away from eye contact.

Zevran planted a foot and contended a bit firmer, "As the mountain rises, it will be colder and you will need these. Ophelia insisted," he sounded almost caring, unfolding and gesturing the tunics for her.

"My magic will keep me warm," Morrigan checked her fingernails nonchalantly, faking for escape.

"And come the time when you must use your magic for something else?" Zevran quizzed, unfaltering in his stance.

Morrigan's eyes swung in a pendulum from the ground to him as she deliberated upon an answer. Frustrated, she snatched the articles of clothing from him tetchily, "Fine. If 'twould rid me of your pestering, I will wear them," she scoffed then undid her cloak and had Zevran carry it while she donned the layers hastily.

"Now, is that not more comfortable?" Zevran remarked when she finished, noticing that she had grasped them tightly and sniffed at their fabric in the transition. "Or..." he guiltily reconsidered, sensing that her cat eyes suddenly contained a sheen of sorrowful sentimentality, "Perhaps you prefer someone else's? If you wish, I can lend you mine."

"No. 'Tis sufficient," Morrigan adjusted them to prove it. Ophelia's shirts fitted perfectly over her own as overlays, plus they were luxuriously soft and had a pleasing aroma that reminded her of her cleanliness amongst the other things she cringed not to remember.

Zevran examined her intently, not fully convinced that she wouldn't be troubled by the thought of wearing Ophelia's wardrobe in the long run. But... He didn't really mind if she felt regret.

He smiled curtly and gave her back her cloak, then with a faint nod, he marched away peacefully.

Once he was out of sight, Morrigan draped the cloak on her body, tied its laces in a knot, then lifted the hood over her head once again. Under its thick material, she discreetly placed a hand on her chest, fingers curling fondly into soft cotton.

[-]

_I long to talk with some old lover's ghost,  
>Who died before the god of love was born.<em>

[-]

The Urn of the Sacred Ashes – that was what they dubbed their current quest. After obtaining the Orzammar dwarves and the Dalish elves' cooperation in the Blight, the only thing that remained was the Redcliffe soldiers' aid. And their soldiers could not help until their leader, Arl Eamon, was saved from his coma. But the sole method of saving him was with the Urn of Andraste, a sacred relic which contained the ashes of the prophet Andraste and was thought to possess incredible healing powers. It was securely secluded atop the frigid Frostback mountains, inside a ruined temple that they endeavored to discover.

Ophelia, Leliana, Zevran, and Morrigan plodded accordingly uphill under menacing swirls of chilly hail, their whole bodies covered by their large cloaks that flapped frantically behind them. Besides the climate, another bothersome hindrance was the steep, rough, and snowy terrain that slowly drained their energy. Then, of course, there was the occasional brawl against darkspawn and other aggressive creatures that didn't want them there.

As per usual, Ophelia would frequently glance at her teammates to ascertain that they were doing well enough to continue traveling. She had a generally content air about her, creating petty conversations along the way with Zevran and/or Leliana.

On the other hand, Leliana lost her typical optimism and was apprehensive, revealing that she was exhilarated to see the Urn but was strangely perturbed.

Lastly, lagging at their rear, Morrigan was entirely soundless, except for her staff's negligible thumps.

Once they had finally arrived inside the dilapidated Temple of Andraste, they gawped at its remarkably intact interior, regardless of its walls being swathed with sheets of ice – it was a magnificent landmark.

Like anything magnificent they've dug up, they fought through innumerable adversaries. Undaunted, they slew the crazy cultists and demonic wraiths that emerged from its ominous yet mystical hallways, which eventually led them to a desolate cavern. There, they clashed with additional monstrosities such as tall drakes and minuscule dragonlings.

It was at the end of the cavern that they met Kolgrim, the leader of the violent cult that dared to oppose them. He announced that Andraste had risen from the dead and that they were her guardians. When Ophelia refused his proposition to pour blood into the ashes (that could defile it) and become a brother or sister to the cult in exchange for their disparaging intrusion that the cultists wished to punish, he brusquely attacked and they had no choice but to slay him and his mob.

In due course, they pressed forward and made it out of the cave then into a sunny mountain top – where a high dragon taunted them but didn't aggress. Walking unhurriedly past the resting colossus above their heads, they exposed a detached temple with a similar structure as the first. Lurking inside, they identified that the ancient sanctuary was inhabited by a guardian knight, bearded and clad in grandeur armor.

"I bid you welcome, pilgrim," the guardian greeted as they advanced to a secured door. His voice was like a resonance, the sympathetic vibration repeating but not because it was rebounding on the derelict walls which were elaborately decorated.

"I am here for the Urn of Sacred Ashes," Ophelia stated, her upper body slanting authoritatively.

"You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall, if you prove yourself worthy," he tolerantly disputed.

"I need the ashes to cure a noble man," she attempted once more.

"Still, you must prove yourself worthy."

She crossed her arms and bent her head rearwards transitorily, fairly annoyed, "_So~_ I have to fight you?" she underlined with a sarcastic tone.

"It is not my place to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that," he elucidated judiciously, "If you are found worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a small pinch of the Ashes for yourself. If not…"

Ophelia interrupted, enquiring about the matter with spontaneous curiosity, "What is the Gauntlet?"

"The Gauntlet tells the true pilgrims from the false. You will undergo four tests of faith, and we shall see how your soul fares."

_Tests of faith? How nostalgic. Hopefully it was not to be analogous to her childhood Chantry trials._

"Can you tell me anything else about this Gauntlet?"

"You will understand what it is when you face it."

She shrugged and sighed passively, "_Very well_. I will enter the Gauntlet." Picking up her feet, she promenaded ahead.

As she was about to get through the door the guardian protected, he precipitously divulged, "Before you go, there is something I must ask. I see that the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past – your suffering, and the suffering of others…"

Ophelia halted and her mien immediately plummeted from good to bad, her facial features sinking fast.

"You abandoned your father and mother, leaving them in the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing he would show no mercy." He scowled empathetically then probed, "Do you think you failed your parents?"

She glared at him, her eyes' scorching veneer emphasized by the immortal torches fastened on the surrounding ruined masonry, "My answer is my own, guardian."

"I will respect your wishes," he coolly submitted, "But what of those that follow you?" he pried with such compassion that it aggravated.

"_Our_ answers are _our_ own," she concluded and gave him a swift once-over then beckoned her team onward.

As they barged in without a signal, the guardian didn't wane with his kindness, "The way is open, good luck, and may you find what you seek," he imparted lastly, though useless.

The door slammed deafeningly compared to the stillness of Leliana, Zevran, and Morrigan's surprise. They scrutinized Ophelia speechlessly as they strode inside the next area, hesitant whether to chat amongst each other or her.

_Rendon Howe? The Arl of Denerim which they had heard rumors about? She had kept that agony a secret for how long? The speed of her evasiveness… Since when did she lose her parents? Recently? What else did she hide from her friends that should've been expressed?_

[-]

_I cannot think that he who then loved most,  
>Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn.<em>

[-]

The first challenge they were presented consisted of riddles given verbally by distressed spirits. They were, no doubt, miserable spirits, riddling with remorseful anecdotes performed like a rhythmic poem.

Ophelia began with Brona who assessed, "Echoes from a shadow realm, whispers of things yet to come. Thought's strange sister dwells in the night, is swept away by dawning light. Of what do I speak?"

Ophelia effortlessly answered 'dreams' for the preliminary conundrum then was informed that she was the mother of Andraste who wept bitter tears for the daughter she couldn't save.

Moving on, she answered the rest correctly without much help from her companions, notwithstanding her enigmatic and unfriendly condition.

_But_ – it was finishing that and moving on to the succeeding chamber that proved to be the actual challenge.

Their boots clicked on stone floor as they paraded down a narrow hallway, Ophelia's distinguishable steps separating hers from the others' less assertive ones.

Then in a whirlwind of tiny particles, a middle-aged man materialized in front of her without warning and disabled the confidence she held with each stride.

All of a sudden, the room was claustrophobic, standing was difficult, and breathing was noxious.

Where her eyes should've widened and her mouth should've fallen agape – she didn't. He wasn't real and she knew. Nevertheless, her full immobility was demoralizing for those that observed.

"My dearest child, Ophelia…" Bryce Cousland christened like she had just emerged from the womb of her mother and he had cradled her in his arms. "You know that I am gone, and all your prayers and wishes will not bring me back," his pale cobalt eyes were tender and loving as he solaced, but it produced no visible effect on his daughter. "Pup… I know you miss me, but my death, and my life, no longer have a hold on you. This is how it should be. Set your eyes on the horizon, do not look back, and do not falter. You have such a long road ahead of you, and you must be prepared. And so I leave this in your hands…"

He drew out a hand and dangled a modest amulet, the mirror on its back reflecting a shy gleam of luminance on her marginally quivering lips. To her unseen astonishment, she drew out her own hand and allowed the amulet to precipitate smoothly on her palm.

"I know you will do great things with it," he reassured with a faint smile. As soon as she had closed her fingers over the accessory, her father gradually vanished.

Her chin lowered dismayingly then she ogled the jewelry with her fingers. She clenched her teeth and kicked herself, the unanticipated meeting was done before she could even mutter a word.

_She failed… She did. She shouldn't have slept that early that night and slept through the invasion. And she shouldn't have left._

Shaking off her despondency before it grew, she brashly treaded further after the brief letup.

Cognizant of her torment, they mimicked her movement bereft of a concerned apology.  
><em><br>When should they speak? Should they speak now? Would she be infuriated if they did?_

About twenty feet from her prior engagement with the more than familiar spirit, a sweet sound graced her ears and sent a jolt to rush through her stiffened spine.

_It was too much._

"Hey Ophelia…"

The amiable articulation of the greeting struck a needle in her soul.

_It couldn't possibly be... Why here?_

Ophelia's whole body was stagnant as she merely rotated her irises to take a peek on an obscured side of the passageway.

_She seemed just like she was before... A svelte brunette with tenacious but fond amber eyes._

"The little gnat's not so little anymore, I see."

_If **only** she **could **revert to that little gnat, headstrong and ignorant of the world's perils – she would never let her go._

"Still annoying… But I suppose you've grown to be quite the charmer at least."

Ophelia inhaled in severely needed air and her lungs weakly convulsed out of her control.

"Listen…"

She practically recoiled as the reverie loomed nearer at arm's length and virtually within her grasp.

"It is not your fault… Let it go. You can't be like this forever."

The caressing hand that was reposed on her cheek felt like the genuine feeling but she couldn't revel on it for too long...

"Ophelia, _please_… Do this. For me... Okay?"

A single tear raced down her broken visage as the reverie imparted a heartbreaking wink and smile for her then faded away from the nauseating atmosphere, only sparkles of ethereal light lingering as a sour reminder.

_But since this god produced a destiny,  
>And that vice-nature, custom, let it be,<br>I must love her that loves not me._

The flabbergasted bystanders circled the crestfallen Grey Warden as she evidently swallowed her grief but didn't sob like she should have.

_That girl... Resembled Morrigan._

As with Zevran, Leliana took notice but was the first to vocalize it, "Are you..."

But the second the two words came out of Leliana's mouth, Ophelia smeared her tear away and wore her impenetrable façade. She then instructed without compromise, her voice emotionless, "Let's go. I want to finish this now."

Leliana was tempted to disagree, but in the spur of the moment, she timidly complied, "...Okay." She walked laggardly with Zevran, their faces scarred like they were the ones that had received the bulk of tests.

Past ten frail torches and in approximately five minutes, the Antivan couldn't maintain his muteness and whispered to the Orlesian, "Did you know?"

Leliana eyed him with shame, "No, not at all," she uttered low and doleful.

"This must be why you were anxious," Zevran presumed with the same amount of woe.

"Yes..."

"Do you think Morrigan knew?" he speculated.

Leliana sustained the skeptic rivet with Zevran, both by some means aware of the truth.

Morrigan _did_ know to some degree. She _partially_ knew and she did nothing about it. So she was veiled under her hood, stifling herself from crying as she shadowed them.

[-]

_But every god of love will now extend,  
>His vast prerogative as far above,<br>To reach, to lust, to fight, to defend,  
>The territory of this god of love.<em>

[-]

Ophelia endured and proceeded without complaint, doing her job as a Grey Warden and their esteemed leader. She discerned that business was business, and they had to see the Urn.

Entering a humungous room, they paused and became perplexed because it was vacant. Under a deliberated minute, they wandered about, scratching their chins or tapping their feet inquisitively while surveying the expanse.

Every side had a row of lofty embellished vases, elevated by a couple of stairs. Midway of one side was a dignified statue, displaying a broad shield. The cold tiled flooring was cracked open at some sections, showing the rich soil underneath.

Uncertain, they rendezvoused somewhat at the middle of the room and conversed for some seconds 'til they spotted four gloomy apparitions manifest into physical flesh and bone.

At the other end of the chamber were themselves – only they were carbon copies of themselves.

"Are they… Us?" Leliana pointed out the bewilderment they shared.

"Is she...?" Ophelia grasped that the other Morrigan had begun swirling her hands above her head. "Watch out!"

_BOOM!_

They gasped then instantaneously flew backwards, enormous searing flames engulfing their vision.

Once the hellish blur subsided, they learnt that Morrigan's doppelganger had relinquished a volatile ball of fire in their direction, forcing them to disperse.

As late effort to strategize, Ophelia screamed, "So not to make mistakes, fight your duplicate!"

And that commenced the second challenge.

Ophelia tracked her double, sprinting fast to her position diagonally across the zone. However, the double perceived her plan and smirked deviously, running from her and to Leliana who shot arrows at her own twin.

Leliana was focused on slaying her foe with her arrows, unleashing a barrage of rapid shots while she dodged the projectile flurry against her. Determined, she pulled one resolute arrow back then flung it precisely to spear the flesh in between her rival's brows, defeating her. The victory was short-lived as Ophelia's duplicate ambushed her as soon as the arrow had landed.

Ophelia roared for warning, "LELIANA!" Her forehead wrinkled in frustration and fret, inspecting the scene that unfolded before her.

Her counterpart bombarded Leliana with lightning ripostes, and the surviving archer could only dodge the onslaught for a diminutive duration.

"NO!" Ophelia bellowed when her counterfeit stabbed Leliana on her torso.

The red head shrieked as the stiletto got embedded on her shoulder and grunted as she struggled to retain her clutch on her assailant's other hand that aimed to pierce her abdomen.

Thankfully, Zevran abandoned his task and snatched the attention of her attacker by imposing a duel with her.

Leliana dropped to her knees in pain, applying pressure to the muscle that bled.

Ophelia had rushed to try and help, but in a parallel fluke, Zevran's doppelganger confronted her and imposed his own duel.

She granted the imitation what he wished, sending him a fusillade of dominant strikes. Unable to totally match her, he reeled back bit by bit until his stamina couldn't uphold it anymore and he acquired a diagonal thrust from the side of his neck and directly into his heart.

Ophelia didn't thoroughly witness her achievement and briskly returned her concentration to her friend. "Zevran!" she called with her jaw agog while she dashed, dumbfounded by her replica's identical tactic on her friend – like a replay of her preceding mêlée.

The assassin endeavored to incapacitate the faux rogue with near misses, though it wasn't adequate and Ophelia's double sliced him horizontally on the abdomen.

"ZEVRAN NO!" Ophelia growled in utter rage, a mere second late and finally converging with her equivalent in a lock of daggers that rung their eardrums when they clashed.

"That was a splendid hit, wasn't it?" her clone snickered evilly in their scuffle, inciting peculiarly confusing sentiments inside her.

_Was she that extreme?_

Their blades clinked and clanged repetitively, some contacts creating sparks of intensity. Their fighting stances were exact mirrors, unyielding and ruthless.

They tussled for a prolonged duration, neither winning. Till Morrigan broke them apart with a cone of streaming fire.

"This isn't working!" Was all she remarked after the spell, insinuating that she was also at a stalemate with her doppelganger.

Taking initiative, they switched adversaries – Morrigan casting an enveloping frost and Ophelia hurling minor throwing knives.

The leading Warden deflected the primal elements the witch double threw at her, exploiting her high quality cape and cunning circumvention.

Then – white beams of telekinetic force collapsed around her.

Her hearing muffled.

And her body became paralyzed.

Then her interpretation blacked.

She irrepressibly blanked out.

[-]

_O, were we waken'd by this tyranny!_

[-]

When Ophelia came to, she was still upright, her feet planted firmly on the floor – but there was no floor, it was just emptiness.

Dribbles of bright dots evaporated upwards and Morrigan arose from the depths of nothing. "I regret my decision…" she acknowledged then sauntered for her, guilt daubed on her face, "You meant everything to me and I should've loved you…" she lifted a hand up, aspiring to touch her, "Please forgive me…"

_"Oph..lia!"_

Inches from the impending connection, Ophelia's mind throbbed.

"_She isn…me!"_

She gritted her teeth and clasped her temples. _Morrigan… The real Morrigan was cautioning her._

"_Don…let her foo…you!"_

The haze dissipated and before the copycat could fondle her cheek and ingrain an entropic mutilation on her, Zevran impaled her from behind and the sword jutted through her chest.

"_Uggh...!_" her blood gushed for a second and she viewed the damage done to her, then every part of her disintegrated into an eerie explosion.

Ophelia's eyebrows upraised in astonishment for the elf, "Zevran, you…?"

"Feigned my death," he simpered, gesturing at the shallow cut on his abdomen.

Their reunion was cut short from recognition of Morrigan's incessant vociferous snarls, launched with incessant spell casting. She managed to keep the bogus Warden at bay with a combo of stumping grease then befuddling earthquake.

The duo promptly jogged to her aid and gave the faltering blonde no time to react. They outnumbered and overpowered the weakened counterfeit without much difficulty, Ophelia executing the killing blow with a beheading.

They wallowed in their triumph for a while, indecisive of how to respond to the head that spun on the surface.

Detecting a grumble that hinted for assistance, they hurried to Leliana who was sitting, propped against a wall.

Ophelia made it first and assuaged, "Leliana..." she went down on one knee and checked her injury caringly as her fingers stroked her weary face.

"I'll be… Okay..." Leliana persuaded, shifting to become more vertical, "It is not as bad as I thought."

Regardless of her exhausted stature, Morrigan proposed generously, panting constantly, "She will be fine… If... I heal her now."

Ophelia grazed a concluding brush of her fingers on Leliana's jawline then regarded the sorceress and appealed gravely, "Do it quickly, if you can." She stood and untied her ponytail then moved past her, swaying and combing her shoulder length hair with her fingers momentarily to fix it later.

On a whim, Morrigan was transfixed by the subtle deed and looked at her.

So in that split-heartbeat, Ophelia's eyes pinned Morrigan's, staggered golden irises shuddering...

And steel irises like rain clouds that wouldn't shower.

[-]

_Ungod this child again it would not be,  
>I should love her, who loves not me.<em>

[-]

In spite of the lacerations...

In spite of the lamentations...

In spite of the deprivation...

In spite of the whole tribulation...

Still, they must move on.

Shockingly, the third challenge had been the easiest emotionally. They simply had to stand on pressure plates on a specific sequence to summon individual blocks of a bridge then go over it. Luckily, even in their sensitive circumstances and thanks to their combined intelligence, they had no quarrels in solving the puzzle.

The last challenge had been the easiest of all, just an altar with a riddle that essentially described to walk through a wall of fire without their armor and equipment. Clearly, none were in the mood to fool around, so they obeyed the riddle without problems.

Ultimately, they arrived at the pinnacle of their expedition and attained a pinch of the ashes. Everyone was relieved to have completed the undertaking but only Leliana had conveyed her appreciative amazement on the Urn.

Exiting the Gauntlet and backtracking to the open mountain top, not one had urgently ventured to recall the burden that must have been weighing on their leader. They wordlessly tailed her for ten minutes, one foot after the other under the freezing dusk.

But then Leliana embraced bravery…

"Ophelia..." she began, delicately breaking the constricting silence and sliding in front of her for a halt. Her eyes flickered anxiously while stammering a little, "I just… Y-your parents and... That... Girl… I'm so sorry..." The wind blew harder and she pinched the fluttering flaps on her hood.

"We had no idea..." Zevran added softly beside her, rubbing his elbow before slightly extending a heartfelt hand out to reach for the stubborn Warden, "For what it is worth––"

"No need," Ophelia sharply veered with an icy shoulder, dodging the contact, "Stop pitying me," she commanded mutedly, her tone strict.

Leliana took a second to muster her will then successfully placed a consoling hand on Ophelia's bicep and reminded gently, "Bottling your emotions inside will make you ill, you know that."

"Yes. Let us not repeat what had happened before," Zevran advocated sincerely.

Ophelia screwed her eyes shut then assured firmly, "I'm fine. And that won't happen again..." Her countenance preserved the blind apathy as if to refrain from releasing her frustration. With her breathing calm, she steadily admonished, "Besides... Would it have been that much better if everyone knew? That because my parents died I had become a Grey Warden? You would share your condolences then what? I had coped just fine." She huffed heavily and turned to face them sternly, "Would you have kept your judgments the same, knowing that someone I deeply cared about resembled Morrigan?"

Tentative azure and bronze flinched at indomitable silver. Ophelia stared Leliana and Zevran down questioningly for an extended amount of time, ignoring the dark headed woman she had just mentioned. When they had supplied no answer, she proclaimed, "I thought so..." With hardened platinum eyes, she imparted them a last glower then instantly pivoted around to trudge downhill.

As Leliana took an impulsive step forward to follow her, Morrigan projected in somber intervention, "Leave it..." then she continued when Leliana twisted and challenged her with stiff sapphires, "Do not provoke her any further."

"We are not provoking her. She is grieving, Morrigan. Do you think she had properly mourned her parents' death?" Leliana jutted a coercive hand and tested, "Of all of us, you should give her the most sympathy after everything we've discovered." Her red head drooped down slightly as she reminisced about what happened before the third puzzle. _The restrained grimace... The small trembling of shoulders... And..._ "The way she gazed fleetingly at you... Needily... I couldn't bear the excruciating look on her face..." she tilted her head despairingly as she admitted, "She truly _wanted _you..."

Zevran chimed in, "Even you saw her pitiable stare for a moment there, did you not?" He derided in lighthearted but credible accusation, "A desperate call for your attention that you easily shrugged away by swerving your cold eyes to the ground."

Morrigan cringed inwards with guilt. But knowing exactly what she was certain of, she tried to explicate, somewhat confrontational, "I had said everything that must be said to her. I cannot speak to her any further... No matter what..." she exhaled profoundly to calm her concealed anxiety, "I cannot. 'Twill only lead to a chance of more unease between us and... Heartache."

Leliana immediately disagreed, "That wholly depends on how you approach her."

"You have no idea how she is around me when she is emotional, even when she thinks that she is in perfect control," Morrigan rebutted. In truth, the conversations she had with Ophelia at the Brecilian forest scared her... _Haunted _her.

Morrigan had seen Ophelia's predatory – even borderline devilish – aspect many times before, mostly against their foes. In the midst of battle, how she sometimes smirked a sinister smirk or giggled a morbid giggle during and after a kill. It wasn't a bother the first time it was used against her – served with a bittersweet kiss. Or the other times, while they had painful but pleasurable sex.

But her mentally and emotionally asphyxiating encounter with the rogue underneath the waterfall... She had never anticipated that she would be assaulted in such a manner. It frightened her... Yet also fascinated her in a helpless masochistic fashion that she strove to dispose.

"Whatever. We didn't expect you to talk to her. In fact, I do not want you to," the bard announced with mild disdain for the witch.

"Judge me as you please..." Morrigan supposed in monotone, looking off apathetically to the mountains as she abruptly ambled downwards to leave. _She did care. She knew she did care. She didn't need anybody else to know. If they thought otherwise, she wouldn't let herself get affected._

Zevran glanced at Leliana and they traded stares, telepathically telling each other to solve the issue at a later time.

Leliana sighed feebly then they started to trail Morrigan leisurely down the path. Zevran studied the walls of jagged precipice around him as they descended, its countless crevices somehow absorbing him.

_She would be okay. She had to be. Their journey was almost at an end._

Then with subdued thuds from small pebbles, Zevran remembered the monumental fiend lurking just up above and tilted his head upwards. "The high dragon... She's moving..." he established, examining the tail that swiped across an edge and swept a pile of rocks to tumble boisterously beside them.

"Where?" Leliana inquired, attempting to copy where the elf gaped at.

"There," Zevran made known, despite Leliana already finding out by herself.

"Is she planning something? What should we do?" Leliana queried then realized a more significant question, "Wait. Ophelia?"

Before Leliana could scan the surroundings, Morrigan overheard and spoke analytically, "She's running at the middle of an open space," she scrunched her eyebrows at the view, the blonde merely halfway to a safe spot in the vast snow, "She's in danger…"

"We should reunite with her," Zevran asserted then hastily sprinted with Leliana.

Morrigan scoffed irritably, "She knows, but we shall remind her," then she nippily transformed into a hawk and zoomed into Ophelia's location.

"Hurry. The dragon's leering at her!" Leliana worriedly yelled above the noise of their scrambling feet. Their efforts were soon proved worthless by the mighty screech of the beast and Leliana: "She's swooping down!"

"OPHELIA!" Zevran shouted, watching the monster dive down in a flash and hook his friend in her talons while tripping on an unseen obstacle on the dirt, and stumbling to a fall.

"_NOOO!_" Leliana desperately yelled with Morrigan who squawked a loud and harsh cry, echoing in the dimming blue skies.

[-]

_I long to talk, I long to feel love._

[-]

Facedown, Ophelia pressed her gloved hands on the coarse yet slippery surface then pushed herself up. Vertigo from her involuntary plunge and roll overcoming her, she dizzyingly stumbled to her feet.

Contemplating the flat horizon, she distinguished that she was on a higher plateau and that the sneering high dragon a hundred feet from her had brought her there.

Wheezing irately, she unclasped her cloak then unsheathed her twin daggers and twirled them tauntingly, preparing for the inevitable one-on-one.

The creature jeered in threat, puffing air out of its nose. Her devil eyes tapered then she stomped towards her target, the earth quaking as she did.

"_GHAA!"_ Ophelia groaned frenziedly when she got within range, her eyeballs enlarging along with her opened mouth as she jumped and delivered a downward thrust on the serpentine head.

It scraped the fiend below an eye, causing her to withdraw with an unruly growl.

Disconcerted, the dragon licked her gash clean and then instinctively lunged again, serving it with a bite.

Ophelia twirled, avoided it, and swung a counterattack but missed.

"_Let me help."_

The tantalizing invitation reverberated in her thoughts as she fought hard for minutes against the massive monster, her lesser daggers versus greater claws and teeth.

_"I can help you…"_

_"Why wouldn't you want my help?"_

_"All you have is me."_

Exasperated to continue fighting, she interrogated, "Will you kill me or what? What else do you want from me?" She spread her arms out intimidatingly, "HUH?"

The demon replied with an earsplitting roar and resumed to charge her.

Ophelia's breathing was in a wild pace, her speech coming out in ragged segments, "I cared… For you!"

Worn-out, she gathered her breath and let loose her inmost resentment on the brute. "I put my life in the line for you!"

She reproached as if the high dragon was the woman that had blatantly broke her heart. "I _LOVED _you!"

_"I'VE GIVEN YOU MY ALL!"_

Then a tail whipped her body transversely, heaving her far unto a hefty boulder and knocking her unconscious.

[-]

_I sank so low to love her scorn._

[-]

_…_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_…"Ophelia..."_

_…_

_…_

_…"Answer me."_

_…_

_…"Ophelia."_

_"M-Moira...?"_

_…"How come you're never afraid?"_

_"Afraid?"_

_"But..."_

_"I **am **afraid..."_

_…"Not like I was."_

_…"I couldn't face all my challenges like you did."_

_…"And you have been through a lot more than I have."_

_…"You are hardly ever afraid."_

_"I thought I could do this..."_

_"I can't anymore."_

_…"Yes you can."_

_"I'm not sure..."_

_…"You can."_

_"Will you be there for me if I can't?"_

_…"Of course."_

_…"But I know you can."_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_…_

"I miss you..."

[-]

_To reach, to lust, to fight, to defend._

[-]

After laying an Andraste's Grace by a mound of organized stones, Ophelia got on her feet and reflected on the four separate burial sites she and Leliana built on top of a pronounced hill.

The evening was tranquilizing, an overall ambient atmosphere. The precipitating snowflakes were hospitable and alleviating, the stars were bountiful and brilliant, and the moon bulbous and beautiful.

Leliana pored over the taller woman next to her, tempted to sneak her unrestrained arm into the noblewoman's.

Ophelia tucked her hands in her pockets and sighed, staring out into the landscape, "When that door flung open and my father appeared before my eyes, bleeding profusely... A puddle of blood... It was as if a terrible thunderstorm had suddenly crashed and I couldn't fathom why. Why was it storming outside? Why did it have to take everything I cared about away?" she shook her head, exerting to keep her tear ducts from functioning, "But inside... I already knew what it meant. I was ready to stay there and die, defending him and my mother who also chose to be left behind." Stressing the absurdity, she chuckled lightly, "But Duncan had to talk..." While adjusting the bandages on her arm, she carried on with the disclosure, "He convinced my father to have me join him as if in order to be tugged away safely from harm. And with heavy feet, I trudged on to follow Duncan to Ostagar. Lost in each step yet somehow managing to find my way through the predicament… For the first few days, I had no drive to live my life. I just went with whatever was told of me to do." She bit her lip in short meditation, "But after I met Morrigan..." then she gazed at Leliana, a pleasant curve developing in the corners her lips, "A new light flickered inside of me. It seemed like I was given a new glimmer of hope. That I..." she bobbed her head in sync with her self-correction, "That _someone _who looked and acted like Moira had been presented to me." She observed Leliana ardently and clarified, "I harnessed my strength using her as my inspiration. But it was wrong to blindly draw my utmost courage from her... I realize this now..."

Leliana settled a smooth palm on her cheek and compassionately asserted, "Please don't let yourself get hurt anymore... I'm here for you..." she wrapped her moveable arm around her shoulders and hugged her, murmuring to her ears, "Zevran, Wynne, Alistair, and everyone else... We're here for you..."

"I know..." Ophelia ratified, "I'm better now," she pulled away from the clinch then kissed her fervently, startling the unsuspecting bard.

_She was too nice. Nicer than her. She just hoped she could follow through with this._

When Leliana was freed, she tasted her own lips then prodded coyly, "You found a new source of inspiration, did you?"

"Yes..." Ophelia beamed at her, "I did."

[-]

_To die before this god was born._

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"God of Love" by Stereo Alchemy

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for You Are The Forest<strong>

**Arf-Arf-Psycho**: I always romanced Morrigan too. I just think her attitude and background just make her a more fun and interesting woman. I know that irl I probably couldn't handle a woman like her and go for someone more like Leliana. But really, if I could, that's the woman I would want. Or just hope I get lucky. XD

**Dalish Elf**: I'm slowly recovering from this block or whatever you call it, I suppose. I do hope to finish this fic before my birthday. Haha. Hope that I update faster because I actually can't believe it took me this long...

**Moral Attention**: At the moment, their relationship makes things better. Even if it is unhealthy in the long run, they know and they just want to finish their journey. But things will get complicated before that, so stay tuned. :)

**lunavixen**: Aww... This is heartbreaking. Is this your first review? Why couldn't you sugarcoat it just a bit and maybe say the other chapters all got a 5? Huhu. Anyway, I hope this one's better and I hope you came back. :)

**whiskered oranges**: Haha. I go back to Orzammar multiple times when under the Deep Roads. XD If I do make a sequel, the first few chapters would be prepared. To complete the story, however, I still need to daydream some good ideas. Lol. I named her Ophelia because I like the name and the song "Opheliac" pertains to her quite accurately. Having a name that a Claymore (anime) character also shares is awesome. And doesn't Ophelia just sound dark and badass? Idk but I think so. Haha. And that chapter on the first page of google? Wow. Well, Jack Hooper isn't popular yet, so...

**cas.92**: Niiiice~ A new reader. I'm so happy. Did she surprise you with this chapter? I hope so. Thanks for the compliment. :D

**Lord Tubbington**: Thanks for the rating! Yes. You're right. If there was a reunion, it would be amazingly satisfactory. Keep that thought in mind and tell me what you think with what I do in... Hmm... Two chapters. XD Btw, new reader? Yes? Well, I'm just so happy that new people are reviewing. XD

**Cstaf**: Thank you! I'm so glad you made that review because now... It's on the summary for this fic! Lol. Hope you don't mind. Keep reviewing. :D

**MakeshiftParadox**: Oh don't worry. I'll finish this fic. I'm just a little uninspired to write sometimes. I think I'm getting over it though. I'll try and update faster. Definitely not gonna take me another month. :) Thank you for all the compliments! It's really nice to hear that people agree the characters are more developed. And tell me about thesauruses... I use word counter too... To make sure I don't use unique words more than twice or thrice. XD

**LunarOphelia13**: Omg. Your account name. Haha. Anyway, thanks for the compliments and well wishes! I am well, I just get busy and lose the mood to write sometimes... I assure you, it's never taken me this long to update this story. Huhu.

Thanks for reviewing everyone! Review again please.

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><p>AN: Yea... Sorry for the REALLY LONG wait. I know. It'll never take that long again... I think. I've just been hecka busy and on top of that, not feeling like writing when I get the chance. :(

"To die before this god was born." What does that mean? Haha. I'm such a tease. This song is one of the songs that I've already set long ago for this particular chapter. The following chapter songs are gonna be the same deal, so you can say... I know exactly what I wanted to happen for those chapters.

Also, did anyone see the horror movie Martyrs? It's my favorite horror movie and you should go see it if you want to know what similar scene I've used for this chapter.

And btw, the cover art for this story is actually something I drew so go fokin check it out if you can and tell me what you think, will ya? Thanks. :D

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	15. Chapter 15 In for the Kill

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_Minor Edit: April 5th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 15 - <strong>In for the Kill<strong>

* * *

><p><em>The overextended hallways, varied rooms, frequent staircases, and dead-end corners seemed unending while she tramped past the guards she had swiftly slayed without any assistance.<em>

_It was difficult to follow; to consent with whatever she unspeakably planned._

_And what was more agonizing to experience..._

_Was the time that had meticulously expired along with her sanity._

[-]

Ophelia tapped her obsidian lips repeatedly with an index, a profound thought engulfing her mind. "Repeat it."

"What?"

Austerely, she shifted on a comfortable burgundy armchair and crossed her legs. "Repeat it."

"The whole speech?"

"Yes, Alistair," she reclined backwards transitorily then clarified, "The _whooole_ speech."

"Are we even using this?" Alistair shuffled the papers in his hands, faking a scan of the bombastic words written on it.

Ophelia shrugged, "No, but you need the practice."

Elsewhere in the large and posh room, Shale murmured to the Qunari beside her, "_Uggh_… I never imagined that hearing _it_ constantly babble nonsense would be the most boring of all tasks assigned as of yet."

"Agreed," Sten monotonously replied.

"_Gaaah._" Alistair moaned, scratching his head irritably.

"Stop whining. I should make you memorize it," Ophelia threatened half-heartedly then instructed with a touch of fervor, "C'mon Alistair. Less insecure gestures, more conviction. Remind yourself of the power you'll hold."

"Yes, yes. That's all I need to be certain of in order to do this right."

"Go Alistair! You can do it!" Zevran cheered in sarcastic enthusiasm, pumping a fist in the air.

Ophelia jutted her head forward and encouraged with certainty, "Remember: you won't ever have to do chores. Ever."

Alistair tittered, "That does sound like a very good deal."

"You'll have the gold, the jewels, the castle, the servants, the toys…"

"The ale…" Oghren chimed in with a hiccup.

"The _ale_…" Ophelia echoed in agreement.

"And women. Do not forget the women," Zevran added with a grin.

"Yes, yes," Ophelia nodded definitively, "And the women… Lots of beautiful women, wherever you want them."

"Uhm… Yeaaa…" Alistair gazed at the ceiling, enraptured for pretense, "Lots of women..."

Ophelia divided the air with a steady hand and designated, "One for your bedroom. One for the kitchen. One for when you're on the go…"

"_Ehgad_…" Wynne stamped a palm on her forehead and shook her head disappointedly, "Ophelia _would_ be the only woman to speak of women like a commodity."

Leliana chuckled, "She's only joking."

As giggles started to consume the room, distinguishable footsteps resounded in the hallway adjacent to their room's open door.

Simultaneously, they veered their heads questioningly as Arl Eamon appeared and propped an abrupt wrist on the wall. "Alistair. Ophelia. Come," he quickly beckoned, "Accompany me. Loghain and Howe are at the door."

"_Howe?_" Leliana queried in disbelief, staring at a stern Eamon then an equally stern Ophelia. _She had always impressively become professional the moment she needed to be – no matter the emotions she concealed inside._

"Yes," Eamon answered frankly then upturned a brow for the standing Warden, "Ophelia, will it be alright?"

At the question, diamond eyes sheened mordantly at the bearded nobleman. "That must be rhetorical," straightening her cuffs and collars swiftly, Ophelia assured, "Don't fret. I can pretend he's not in the same room..." As she passed through Eamon to exit, she glanced at him fleetingly and noted, "For a time."

[-]

_We can fight our desires,  
>But when we start making fires,<br>We get ever so hot,  
>Whether we like it or not.<em>

[-]

Ophelia's attention was wholly faithful to the intricately decorated vase close to her side and didn't budge as the heavy double doors of the vestibule creaked then swung ajar and permitted three individuals to march inside. Their metal armors clanged and boots clicked in an ominous rhythm that strove to irk her.

The doors locked and the visitors halted, keeping a substantial distance.

"Loghain. This is…" Eamon faltered with his salutation, unsure of how to deliver it, "An Honor, that the regent would find time to greet me personally."

Loghain's eyes were tapered as he justified, "How could I not welcome a man so important as to call every lord in Ferelden away from his estate while a Blight claws out our land?" Though courteous in the provision, his voice was rough and biting.

"The Blight is why I'm here. With Cailan dead, Ferelden must have a king to lead it against the darkspawn," Eamon elucidated, biting back with the same courtesy.

"Ferelden has a strong leader: its queen. And I lead her armies," Loghain proclaimed proudly in the middle of his pacing.

Ophelia suddenly muttered lowly, eyes still a tad dormant, "The throne belongs to Maric's only living son." She would get her word in but not grant them the animosity they undoubtedly desired.

"_Ah_, the Grey Warden recruit. I thought we might meet again." Loghain loomed a couple of feet from her, but she didn't flinch at the slightest. "You have my sympathies on what happened to your order. It is unfortunate that they chose to turn against Ferelden."

Ophelia snorted to herself then bestowed him a short-lived glimpse, imperturbably condescending, "I don't accept the sympathies of deserters and regicides."

Loghain had cracked his façade and threatened directly, "You should curb your tongue. This is my city, and no safe place to speak treason. _For anyone_." He retreated to his former spot in front of them, farther from Ophelia. Then nippily deviating to another topic, he began, "There is talk that your illness left you feeble, Eamon. Some worry that you may no longer fit to advise Ferelden."

Eamon tetchily contested, "Illness? Why not call your poison by its true name? Not everyone at the Landsmeet will cast aside their loyalties as easily as you and these… Sycophants."

"How long you've been gone from court, Eamon!" Loghain retorted then introduced the man behind him, "Don't you recognize Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine and Teryn of Highever?"

"And current Arl of Denerim, after Urien's unfortunate fate at Ostagar," Howe commiserated but his tone and bearing were anything but commiserating, "Truly, it is an embarrassment of riches."

_The audacity in believing he could be the Teryn of Highever. _Ophelia inhaled calmly then decided to voice the outrageousness, not particularly aimed at anyone, "That's a lot of titles for one man to have..."

At the remark, Loghain's lieutenant, Ser Cauthrien stepped a foot forward and scolded, "Don't interrupt, churl. Your betters are talking."

"Not mine. Just _yours_."

Loghain signaled an uncompromising hand for his deputy to regress, "Enough, Cauthrien, this is not the time or place." She complied with a nod then he continued with the Arl of Redcliffe, "I had hoped to talk to you down from this rash course, Eamon. Our people are frightened: our king is dead. Our land is under siege." Displaying vehemence in his movements, he asserted, "We must be united now, if we are to endure this crisis. Your own sister, Queen Rowan, fought tirelessly to see Ferelden restored. Would you see her work destroyed? You divide our nation and weaken our efforts against the Blight with your selfish ambitions to the throne."

Ophelia pursed her lips and contemplated. The man was skilled with war and tactics, however disparaging with his methods. As a final careless stipulation for what could be smoothly resolved, she renewed her posture and declared austerely, "If you truly want to save this land, stand with us."

But at no surprise, it was to no avail. "I should put my faith in untried foreign hands? Do you think I'm blind?" Loghain tested with contempt, "Cailan depended on the Grey Warden's prowess against the darkspawn, and look how well that ended. Let us speak of reality, rather than tall tales. Stories will not save us."

"I cannot forgive what you've done, Loghain. Perhaps the Maker can, but not I," Eamon established with kindness yet dissatisfaction. "Our people deserve a king of the Theirin bloodline. Alistair will be the one to lead us to victory in this Blight."

"Oh, is that all I have to do? No pressure…" Alistair uttered to himself.

Loghain looked at Eamon narrowly and concluded less aggressively, "The emperor of Orlais also thought I could not bring him down. Expect no more mercy than I showed him. There is nothing I would not do for my homeland." He prolonged his spiteful scrutiny towards Eamon and his companions a second more, then swerved around to walk away with his entourage.

The front doors shut with a loud thud then Eamon quipped bitterly, "Well, that was… Bracing. I didn't expect Loghain to show himself quite so soon."

Able to breathe again, Ophelia stated composed yet severely, "Howe killed my family, I can't let him get away with it."

Eamon approached her and advocated, settling a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "I would not ask you to. But bear in mind that he will be well-protected by his alliance with Loghain. He always seemed the kind of man who enjoyed kicking stray dogs. I would not have thought Loghain would trust him." Removing his hand, he briefed, "We need eyes and ears in the city, Loghain has been here for months. The route of all his schemes must begin here. The sooner we find them, the better we can turn them to our advantage." When he discerned that she took mental notes, he directed, "Go have a look around and see what you can turn up. Better yet, find the nobles who have arrived for the Landsmeet. Test the waters, see how many will support us. And when you're ready to talk strategy, come upstairs to my sitting room. We can lay out our plans for the Landsmeet then."

Ophelia bobbed her head twice for accord, "Alright." She bowed lightly then watched as he spun to leave.

Seconds later, Alistair lurked behind her and stretched a hand out to reach for her stiff shoulder but hesitated for a moment and drew it back. Then in an instant, she started to move forward and the words flew out of his mouth unequivocally. "Ophelia. Don't worry. Howe will get what he deserves."

She twisted just enough for him to witness her sad smile, "Yes, my king," then she resumed onwards.

_That precisely the same content façade she wore at Ostagar that fooled him before…_

"I'm not king yet," he mumbled mutedly and frowned, the antechamber growing bigger with her every stride.

[-]

_They say we can love who we trust,  
>But what is love without lust?<br>Two hearts with accurate devotions,  
>And what are feelings without emotions?<em>

[-]

The sun was high and bright, attractively accentuating the gorgeousness of the colorful flowers that bloomed. The wind was mild and polite, carefully carrying the pollen which undoubtedly caused countless allergies and irritations, and successfully propagating spring.

In a minor garden, clear water continuously spouted from an elaborate feminine sculpture then gently poured into an oversized basin, its soothing sound enveloping a resting rogue's hearing but not her thinking. On a dish at the top of the structure, hummingbirds bathed and tweeted for her delight – though that didn't affect her either, melancholically sitting alone on a bench with a downcast head.

But not for long…

"_Hey_..." Leliana unexpectedly cooed, emerging from behind and wrapping her slender arms over Ophelia's hunched shoulders.

The blonde loosened a bit at the contact and allowed the red head's hands to descend over her torso before she responded flatly, "Hey."

Leliana rubbed her cheek tenderly against hers as she bent down and tightened the embrace. "Your heart is beating so fast..." she clutched the silk blouse at the valley of her chest and emphasized, "Like the speed of the water's ripples in that fountain.""

"Is it?" Ophelia's head drooped while she interlaced her fingers above hers, "I didn't even know."

"It is..." Leliana affirmed sadly, inhaling fondly into her neck then probing unhappily, "You're thinking about Howe, aren't you? To exact revenge for your family?"

Reluctant to debate, Ophelia exhaled heavily, "I'm sorry... But..." then in one smooth motion, she lifted the intrusive hands off and stood. "He needs to pay," she decreed with understated disdain.

Cognizant of her failure to console her, Leliana encircled the bench to face her and beseeched, "I know that my words have little to no effect on you... But please..." she grabbed a tan wrist and slowly pivoted her around so she could bury her head from below her chin in a loving clinch. "Revenge... Is poison," her fingers curled on her back, nails digging desperately though not painfully, "Let the Maker deal with his retribution…"

"Leliana…"

She anticipated the disapproving hand on her sides and took the initiative to pull back, "Why don't we go for a walk outside of town? It will be more refreshing," she stared up at the weary silver eyes and pleaded.

"No thank you. I think..." Ophelia traced the scrunched eyebrows delicately then revealed, "I think I want to take a nap."

Leliana scowled, "Can't I come with you?"

Ophelia shook her head diminutively, "No, I'll be fine," then she released herself from the bard's clasp and brusquely ambled in the opposite direction.

Sapphires quivered over tormenting heat, and then Leliana just christened, "Ophelia."

Ophelia only had time to look at her sideways before blushing lips captured hers and a searching tongue conquered hers.

Her eyes widened in astonishment while Leliana draped herself as much as she could on her body – mouth, hands, arms, and chest as firmly fastened as they could get while standing.

Exasperated, Ophelia abided the Orlesian to relish the instance, tilting her head in congruence against hers.

When the air in their lungs no longer sufficed, Ophelia commented, her fingers arranging loose strands of red hair, "Leliana... I appreciate everything you do for me, but..." she tasted her own lips diffidently then chided, "You don't have to pretend to be someone that you are not."

"I just..." Leliana blinked timidly, "I wanted to take your mind off of things."

"I understand. That's why I appreciate it."

_If she had been a brunette with a better bust size, would she get more consideration?_

Reeling shyly away from the Warden's touch, Leliana confessed, "I thought that maybe... If I could be more seductive like Morrigan... You'd notice me more and be less inclined to stress over things..."

"Stop. I said I appreciate it, but right now..." Ophelia cupped her face forcibly and compelled, "All I need is some time to think on my own. Okay?"

Leliana lingered in the fixated rivet, wondering if Ophelia would lie and hurt herself instead. Fortunately, an amiable breeze blew graciously on her paramour's alluring face and she reminisced about their heartfelt conversation during the night of the funeral, effectively pacifying her qualms.

"Okay…" she submitted, landing a peck on the stygian lips, "If you ever need me, just call for me..."

"I know," with a pleasant mien, Ophelia suggested, "Don't change. You're adorable, Leliana..."

"You don't say sexy..." Leliana pouted lackadaisically, causing the scoundrel to smirk.

"I meant to say adorable because you've put some effort into trying to woo me during midday. I think it's cute," Ophelia chuckled sincerely then grasped Leliana's rear, hauled her over, and teased huskily, "But you're sexy too... Especially under these clothes." She permitted Leliana to snicker playfully first then unconfined her after and requested, "Could you make sure the party's traversing the city like they should?"

"Yes, of course," Leliana obeyed favorably, beaming as the taller woman charmingly seized her hand and brought it to her face.

"Don't you worry about me." As predicted, Ophelia kissed the back of Leliana's hand – a dramatic indication of her impending departure.

"Rest well…" Leliana managed just as Ophelia immediately reversed, boots grinding the cobblestone in the turn.

[-]

_I'm going in for the kill,  
>I'm doing it for a thrill,<br>Oh I'm hoping you'll understand,  
>And not let go of my hand.<em>

[-]

A squeak of a tall door in the bedroom and Ophelia woke up. With an angled arm, she held her upper body upright and perused the area that created the sound. It was probably late afternoon, the warm light coming from the window divided the minuscule darkness and stretched low over a regal carpet then against a gaping door.

Ophelia musingly combed through her somewhat unkempt hair in hopes that she would come to her senses and detect something amiss. Then, a black feline hopped over her bed then froze and dissected her with stark yellow eyes.

She furrowed her thin brows and instigated, "What do you want?"

At the judgmental tone, the cat winced then hastily leapt off the bed and dashed out of the room. Baffled, Ophelia flipped out of her blanket and chased the rascal through the hall with socked feet.

A few seconds later, a housekeeper sprinted from another corner and caught the kitten, stopping Ophelia from her tracks.

"Willard!" the maid exclaimed, inspecting the creature temporarily. Spotting Ophelia at the side, she voiced with shame, "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Is that your cat?" Ophelia fleetingly pointed at the mammal inquisitively.

"Yes, ser... They help keep the rats away from the kitchen."

"Oh..." she uttered in stupidity, disposing her cynicism, "Yes… I knew that..."

"By the way, Ser..." the servant respectfully interjected, "Arl Eamon told me to tell you when you wake up that he needs you at his sitting room."

"Does he?" Ophelia asked but didn't wait for a reply, "Well, thank you."

"You're welcome, ser," the lady bowed then imparted before leaving, "I better get going. Please excuse me."

Ophelia inwardly tittered at the absurdity of her doubt… Assuming that every sneaking animal was a certain shapeshifter was almost schizophrenic.

[-]

_I hang my hopes out on the line,  
>Will they be ready for you in time?<em>

[-]

"Ah, Warden. I trust you've made yourself comfortable," Eamon assumed when Ophelia walked in his tidy office, her marginally hobbled swagger hinting at her stupor.

"Yes, it's nice," she yawned then sloppily sprawled on a single couch, legs crossed on a coffee table.

"Good. Because it's likely to be your last rest for a while," he distinguished then regarded the short elf to his left, "This is Erlina. She's–"

"I am Queen Anora's handmaiden. She sent me here to ask for your help," Erlina informed basically.

Eamon quipped indifferently, "Or perhaps the young lady prefers to speak for herself."

Ophelia sat rigid, adjusting her legs off the tabletop, "Why would Anora ask us for help?"

"The queen, she is in a difficult position. She loved her husband, no? And trusted her father to protect him. When he returns with no king and only dark rumors, what is she to think?" Erlina elucidated, her Orlesian accent palpable, "She worries, no? But when she tries to speak with him, he does not answer. He tells her 'not to trouble herself.'"

"Are you saying the queen believes Loghain killed Cailan?" Ophelia inquired, head a tad cocked limply to a side.

"My queen suspects she cannot trust her father. And Loghain, he is very subtle, no? But Rendon Howe, he is privy to all the secrets and… Not so subtle," Erlina continued instantaneously when Ophelia raised an astringent brow at her, "So she goes to Howe. A visit from the queen to the new Arl of Denerim is only a matter of courtesy. And she demands answers."

Ophelia's eyes sparked at the revelation. "Howe, huh?" She lazily leered at the garnish by the edge of her seat's armrest. "Didn't go well, did it?" She fiddled with the protruding trimming, eyelids half-covering the reflective glimmer in her eyes.

"He calls her every sort of name, 'traitor' being the kindest, and locks her in a guest room."

"And Loghain… Would allow that?" she contrived, already possessing knowledge of the truth.

"King Cailan was like a son to him, and Loghain left him to die. Does he love Anora more? Who can say?" Erlina expanded, getting to the crux of the matter, "I think… Her life is in danger. I heard Howe say she would be a greater ally dead than alive. Especially if her death could be blamed on Arl Eamon."

"Loghain would kill his own daughter just to frame Eamon…" Ophelia folded her arms and shrugged coolly, "Unsurprising…"

"We have no choice but to trust Anora. The queen is well-loved. If Loghain succeeded in pinning her death on me…" Eamon announced strictly, "I'm not sure that's a risk we can afford to take."

"Of course," Ophelia stood sharply and declared, "We'll help."

Erlina advanced on her and recommended eagerly, "I have some uniforms. Arl Howe hires so many new guards every day, a few more will not cause much stir. I will show you to the servant's entrance. We must slip in and out with my queen before anyone is the wiser."

Ophelia nodded, "Alright. I have no problem with that."

"I will go ahead to Howe's estate. Meet me there as soon as you can," Erlina concluded, smiling with gratitude.

Ophelia smiled too… A smile that she was plotting_._

[-]

_If you leave them out too long,  
>They'll be withered by the sun.<em>

[-]

A vibrant hue from hogging indigo to dwindling vermillion canvased the skies in a fancy display, shredded cotton clouds and soaring birds sprayed on the expanse opus.

"A pleasant dusk, isn't it?" Wynne catered to the silent bard who gazed out and over the high patio, leaning heavily on the railing.

"Wynne..." The crooks of Leliana's lips modestly curved up in seeing the elderly mage. "Yes. Yes it is."

"If only it were the same for Ophelia..." Wynne copied her and propped her elbows on the top of the stone enclosure. "You wouldn't be so alone in enjoying it," she conveyed with negligible sorrow.

"She's sort of in an unsociable mood once again," Leliana batted her eyelashes, a small exertion to stifle her emotions.

"I admire your perseverance. You care so much for her and keep caring for her even though half of the time she dismisses you," Wynne solaced, situating a hand on Leliana's pauldron, "Know that despite this, you have already done something good for her by expressing your concern each and every time."

The red head secured her eyes, pensive, "I do my best."

"Normally, I wouldn't approve of this... Relationship for convenience, but she does do better with you as her support," Wynne acknowledged, "And I am aware that you are aware that she could still be very much in love with Morrigan."

"I..." Leliana stammered, reticently rubbing at her own sides, "I know... But I want to be close to her... For as long as I can... If not very long."

"Regardless of the imminent possibility of you getting yourself hurt." Wynne's words were as soft-spoken as ever, but it still caused distress.

"I would be grateful to have loved her..." Leliana paused, the consequence of the mute interval heartwarming, "Than to have never loved her at all."

Wynne inhaled a lavish amount of air, reveling in what she heard. "That is a beautiful sentiment––"

Then she jumped out of her skin.

"_BAAAH!_"

"_AAAHHH!_" Wynne and Leliana squealed in utter shock, bracing in each other's arms as Zevran shouted behind them.

"ZEVRAN!" Leliana cried in annoyance, shoving him squarely on the chest.

He giggled proudly then annunciated, "Reporting for duty!"

"How long have you been there?" Leliana glared at him accusatorily.

"Ohhh... Some seconds... Or minutes."

Wynne feebly stooped over the broad rail and panted, "You will be the death of me..."

"Darling Wynne, that is the sweetest thing you have ever said to me," Zevran unveiled then prepared to snake an arm on Wynne's waist.

"No, not in that notion––" Wynne swatted the sly elf on the head then admonished, "I told you that I am not your darling!"

"Zevran... What are you doing here? Have you finished searching?" Leliana pried, a little startled he ended his job early.

"Ah, I have much to discuss with you. But first, my dearest songstress, let me digress..." Zevran put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her, compassionately revealing: "Ophelia may not be head over heels for you, but I do believe she would never hurt you on purpose," then he whispered with exaggerated elation, "_She-told-me-this-much!_"

"Oh."

"She also said that only fate can change her mind about getting over her feelings for the witch."

"I never imagined that she was determined to forget about her…" Leliana's previously saddened visage had diminished and morphed into a cheerful one, "_Thaanks_... Zevran."

"You are very welcome, my dear."

Not another word in their chatter, they heard the patented ticks from their leader's cadenced steps and veered to spectate the carrier's commanding strut.

She remained in her casual clothing but her demeanor implied business – that there would be no compromise. In addition, her unreadable countenance was terribly intense – promptly splitting their good graces.

"You're awake…" Leliana tried, some hope for affability injected in her tone.

And yet, she was ignored. Ophelia didn't even halt to speak and just signaled, "Leliana and Zevran, come. We have work to do."

[-]

_The order for rescue was given tersely and there were no time for questions._

_No one could deny the righteous alibi in saving another's life – even if hidden in its process was to kill numerous others._

[-]

_Full stops and exclamation marks,  
>My words stumble before I start,<br>How far can you send emotions?  
>Can this bridge cross the ocean?<em>

[-]

Crickets chirped in the sullen night as Alistair toured around Eamon's estate, the lack of his fun close-knit friends evident in the quietness. It had been a couple of hours since Ophelia, Leliana, Zevran, and Sten had departed for Anora's rescue. He had volunteered to join but Ophelia didn't want their future king to get mixed in the drama.

Leisurely approaching the next passageway, he passed by an exposed guest room and studied its contents. Perceiving low ruffling noises, his eyes swerved to the sorceress that arranged her clothes in an empty dresser. "Hmm… You have a room?" he quizzed just to make his presence known, "Very nice."

Morrigan semi-glanced at him then resumed with fixing her wardrobe. "The old man stumbled by the tent I built outside, said 'twas odd that I did not have a place to stay inside his estate, then insisted in providing me with one."

Alistair beamed to himself, "That's my uncle," then he inclined against a wall by her and claimed, "Hospitable."

Blasé for meaningless banter, Morrigan went on with her personal chore, constraining the Templar to watch her work soundlessly. She had no concern for neatness, conscious of the circumstance that she would only be there for a lesser period, but she organized her items anyway – because she had nothing else to do.

After five or so coarse thuds of drawers opening and closing, Alistair initiated, "You know, sometimes I wonder... What is she still doing here?" He checked if he would receive a reaction, but didn't so he added, "Nearly the whole group avoids you and so do you."

"I told you."

He was taken aback by the fast response, "Pardon?"

"Ophelia."

"But... She can't even look at you. And recently, you don't even get any orders. Goose egg. Zero. Nothing," Alistair changed his amicableness to seriousness, "It's quite depressing how she had completely shunned you since the Urn. It's like you don't exist."

Morrigan rejoined a touch tetchily, "I do not need her to look at me. I do not need her to see me. I do not need her to do anything for me..." but her last sentence came out like a mother's caress, "I simply need her to be safe."

He grunted and clawed at his cheeks, frustrated of her nonsensicalness. "If you truly love her like you obviously do... Is whatever holding you back really worth your pain? _Aand_ Ophelia's pain?" he stressed then subjected her to a maudlin testimony, "I did not want to be king, but Ophelia made me realize that I did want to be king…" inspired, he stabbed an index on his chest repetitively, "Because I _did_ want to save Ferelden from this Blight – the _right _way. _As_ a Grey Warden. And _as_ a king."

"If you say king _one_ more time..."

"King," he jibed with a straight face. "But anyway... What may seem like something you never wanted... Or something you thought was a bad idea..." he droned, dropping down to the bottom of his analogy, "Could be the best thing for both of you... If you think about it."

Morrigan's eyebrows twitched, angry or afraid of what was incited within her, "'Tis none of your…" She discontinued before she got downright pitiable, mockingly superseding with an allegation, "Why should I even take romantic advice from a virgin?"

"Hey now... _That_ is uncalled for. Don't make light of this," the male Grey Warden towered over her intimidatingly.

But she evaded him and wandered toward the foot of her bed. "Why speak to me, Alistair? Have you phenomenally lost interest in playing with your toys?" she spat half-heartedly.

"The statuettes? No, not yet," he jested in rebuttal then explicated, "Well-uh… I feel bad that nobody talks to you…" Slouching against a vanity, he commiserated, "Not even Zevran… They told me how you didn't say a single word to Ophelia after what happened at the Urn, and I guess they're pretty upset about it."

"'Tis nothing I am not used to," Morrigan plopped down on the bedside then absently frolicked with an intriguing crease on its sheets, "Living in the Wilds, I barely spoke to anyone besides my mother."

"But this is different, isn't it?" Alistair disproved sternly, "These people used to be _your_ friends."

"I have no need for friends," she coldly said in monotone then redirected him with an otherwise disconcerting question, "Do you not want Leliana for her? Like everyone else who leap at their open display of affection?"

He sighed anxiously but didn't back down, "Ideally… I think Leliana could be perfect for Ophelia. They have similar goals and won't bicker much about whether or not to save a kitten. Similar roguish skills that no doubt they had already bonded with. Doing that… 'Crimewave' debauchery together with Zevran." Recollecting his arguments, he appended ultimately, "Leliana needs security, Ophelia can give her that. Ophelia needs comfort, and Leliana can give her that. They could be great for each other, really. But there's only one problem…" he caught sight of her skeptical eyes and averred resolutely, "Ophelia's in love with you."

His speech dumbfounded the usually shrewd mage, causing her golden globes to dither as she murmured in denial, "_No…_ She is just…" she puffed out quickly, frightened of the borderline sob escaping her, "_Delusional_."

"H––Hey now…" Alistair progressed to her and endeavored to mollify, "Remind me again: the difference between me and a toadstool. Go on." At any other day, he would've poked fun of her, but he recognized that this wasn't the time and took a seat by her side.

"Alistair… Whatever Ophelia did to you…" Morrigan hurriedly arose, unwilling to persist with the tête-à-tête, "'Twas effective." She seized a door knob then divulged, "You'll know soon enough why I did what I must and you will be grateful… If you care for her as I do," swinging the door wider as a clue, she demanded, "Now… Leave."

"Wait. I've been meaning to ask…" he trekked towards her and queried, "Are you aware that Ophelia is saving Anora from Howe's estate?"

The magnitude of all the jeopardies the rogue was in collapsed cripplingly on the witch – rendering her eyes to a complete stasis.

_But it couldn't be… The others wouldn't let her venture off with a fragile cognizance; it was imprudent and preposterous…_

_Was she truly the only one to realize this?_

[-]

_The opportunity to commit the deed without suspect presented itself and she wholly clutched it by its neck._

_After the descent at that suffocating stairwell…_

_The violent brawl at that ominous torture chamber…_

_Then discovering that presumed path back outside…_

_It was appropriate for one to wane with a dreading heart as the inevitable transpired._

_There was no absconding what was to come._

[-]

_I'm going in for the kill,  
>I'm doing it for a thrill,<br>Oh I'm hoping you'll understand,  
>And not let go of my hand.<em>

[-]

A door creaked open noisily, but its abrasiveness was no compare to the harsher reality that unfolded.

In that reality was the dark culmination of a dungeon, were a number of men bided patiently for the intruders. Randomly spread were two mages and four warriors protecting one arl at their center.

Arl Howe.

"Well, look here. Bryce Cousland's little spitfire, all grown up and still playing the man," he greeted with a charlatan smirk that was nagging to be minced off, "I never thought you'd be fool enough to turn up here. But then I never thought you'd live, either."

Leliana's heart pounded intermittently, speechless as Ophelia retorted calmly yet marred with noticeable scorn, "Glad to disappoint. _Won't be the last time_." Her ending words wielded a deathly tone that terrified her comrades.

"Is this about your family? Still? But I have done so much more than wipe your name from Ferelden memory," Howe's superciliousness cut like a knife as he rewound cruel memories, "Your parents died on their knees, your brother's corpse rots in Ostagar, and his brat was burned on a scrap heap along with his Antivan whore of a wife. And what's left? A fool husk of a daughter likely to end her days under a rock in the Deep Roads." Not through, he spitefully goaded, his eyes wrinkling while they narrowed, "Even the Wardens are gone. You're the last of nothing. This is pointless. You've lost."

Ophelia didn't allow herself to be aggravated, inhaling and exhaling an unfathomable breath, "I know your game. No shadows, no lies," containing her anger for the impeccable twinkling when she slaughters him, she offered customarily, "Just you and me."

"There it is. Right there. That damn look in the eye that marked every Cousland's success that held me back. It would appear that you have made something of yourself after all. Your father would be proud," Howe admitted then croaked throatily, filled with indignation, "I, on the other hand, wants you dead more than ever."

The metallic zing from countless blades packed the room as Ophelia and Howe unsheathed their weapons and everyone else followed suit. They traded hard-edged stares then commenced the climactic battle.

Aiming for only one target, Ophelia zoned in on Howe, snubbing everything else in her sprint onwards. She didn't see anyone else nor hear anyone else in her pursuit.

Stirring distortions blocked her view for a chance to delay her, so Howe wouldn't have to combat her toe-to-toe – but in a flash, she swiped her daggers and the distortions disintegrated.

Howe's eyes unimaginably broadened, then he instinctively distanced himself as fast as he could. He relocated to areas which placed others to be in between him and Ophelia, trusting that that would slow her down but it didn't. As a final resort, he fled from the conflict, climbing the staircases that would lead to more guards.

Making it out of the dungeons, he grinned from relief – now, he just waited to be seen by his minions and they would dispose of her.

Sweat trickled down his brow, then eventually his nose, then eventually his chin, then eventually his neck, then eventually it scattered off of his skin in sync with his body diving headlong and down on the cool floor.

He groaned then skewed his head to survey whence he came, forthcoming dawdling steps gaining in on his prone form.

That was when the shock ceased and a dull throbbing developed on his back. Pain began to set in and he clenched his teeth. "_Ggghhh_!" Panic overtook his senses and he used his arms as leverage to push himself upwards – only to be heaved up by his right arm then forcibly twisted around.

With his eyes nearly bulging out of its sockets from horror, he wheezed frantically while waving his short swords at Ophelia who was inches from him, her aura rigid except for that disturbing smile and unblinking eyes.

He grumbled in ire, missing every single strike as she solely paced out of his way. But he kept on going until–– "_GAAAAH!_ " he screamed and couldn't anymore. His hands were cleanly sliced off at the wrist in a blinding speed so he gawped at it in tremor then screeched again while the blood gushed out.

"Marvelous," Ophelia stated, her voice hungry as if she was a succubus that hadn't been fed, "I am so thrilled in your capacity to yell that shrilly," she jutted a hand out and shoved Howe to topple over the dagger on his posterior and unto the ground once more.

"_YOU WRETCHED–_" he shrieked within the plummet and the deepening stiletto, "_CHILD!_"

"I hope you don't mind..." she forewarned, diamonds devoid of mercy, "If I prolong the pleasure of gutting you alive." She giggled salaciously then gradually implanted a different blade on the top of his abdomen. "Bit..." The steel punctured his armor then rendered voluminous red to spill out and his mouth to shout out uncontrollably. "By bit..." The corresponding movement was instantaneous – a lateral slit that painted a wall and caused Howe to convulse.

"MAKER SPIT ON YOU!" he cried with rage and desperation as he shook, tears mixing seamlessly with his sweat.

Ophelia carelessly discarded her dagger to a side then proposed generously, "Beg me and I might just end your life of worthless conniving a little sooner..." She hoisted one gloved hand up then vigorously inserted it in his stomach, past the resisting breastplate and into the fleshy intestines.

"YOU WON'T... GET A THING... FROM ME!" Howe insufferably exclaimed in between the unremitting jolts of pain of the rogue fiddling with his innards.

"That was a lie. I'm simply delighted of how well you can still speak while screaming. But it must be very excruciating for you to do so, isn't it?" Ophelia loomed directly on top of him, straddling his hips as she rearranged his digestive tract, "Keep screaming... That's all you're good for now."

Blood puddled and streamed in winding grooves and cracks on the floor, the channels stretching farther and farther after every second.

"OPHELIA!" Leliana's petrified yelp reverberated in the passageway, "_STOOOP!_"

Leliana embraced Ophelia from behind but she didn't stop. Instead, she swatted her arms away, retrieved her stiletto, and began stabbing him continually. "You couldn't be satisfied with your inferior and sorry self that you had to stab my whole family in the back…"

Even though Howe's squirming had declined to short groaning, she pierced his torso nonstop. "You didn't have enough courage to face us with equal odds so you had to strike preemptively in the dead of night while we were asleep and our soldiers absent…"

He gaped at her stupidly, awake but on the verge of losing consciousness.

"You had to murder my entire family… _JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE A USELESS. SPINELESS. HYPOCRITE!_"

"That's enough!" bawling, Leliana strove to disarm her, "Please, Ophelia!" though consistently pushed away.

"Ophelia, listen to her..." Zevran advocated despondently behind them and by Sten who crumpled his brows.

A minute of surreality stretched as they helplessly watched Ophelia hack away at Howe's body – the squelching sounds of her daggers repeatedly dividing his flesh filling their ears.

Hopelessly fraught, Leliana readied her bow, drew out an arrow, then shot Howe on the head in under a second – nulling any possibility of being apprehended.

Ophelia immediately whirled around and hissed, "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" She got on her feet and confronted her disrupter.

Leliana nervously recoiled backwards, "I'm sorry, Ophelia. But he suffered enough..."

"SUFFER? YOU DON'T KNOW A THING ABOUT SUFFERING!" Ophelia thrust a finger to Leliana's shoulder hard enough that she reeled back.

"Ophelia, stop this," Zevran appealed timorously.

"Shut up, Zevran!" their leering leader sneered, "I don't interfere with your business, do I? What makes you believe you can interfere with mine?" she threw Leliana against a wall with a boisterous thud, her hands sorely clasped on the bard's tricep.

"You––you're hurting me..." Leliana wept as she cowered underneath her disparaging glare, blood-stained nails digging into her arm.

"Ophelia... Please, let her go..." the elf besought solemnly, finally extending a hand out to pacify her.

The blonde jerked his hand aside and jeered, "Don't you dare stand in my way! Either of you!" then with an insensitive flip of her hair, she stormed away with Sten at her tail.

Beholding Zevran miserably, Leliana shuddered, "I..." then she encumberingly dove into his open arms and wailed, "I've never seen her with so much hatred..."

"Neither have I..." Zevran stroke her back understandingly while she quivered and dampened his shoulder with her sobbing.

He contemplated on the predicament for a moment to consent her friend to compose herself. Something had to be done about Ophelia's irrational belligerence. She was their superior and had persuaded her way out of it innumerable times, but there was clearly something muddled in her mind that must be treated. But for now, Ophelia was safe; hostile – but safe. And so were they.

A minute later, he urged, "C'mon... We'll talk later... Let's not make her wait."

[-]

_That wasn't the end of the nightmare._

_How everything spiraled downwards in an instant._

_It wasn't predicted._

_It wasn't foreseen._

_It wasn't even conceived as feasible at the time._

_But it came to pass too soon…_

[-]

_I'm going in for the kill,  
>I'm doing it for a thrill.<em>

[-]

Queen Anora had been rescued but virtually at the doorstep to the outside, Loghain's female lackey and her soldiers emerged from the hefty double doors and bellowed, "Warden! In the name of the regent, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe and his men at arms. Surrender, and you may be shown mercy." The dark head was taller and more robust, fashioning an enormous claymore on her spine.

"Ser Cauthrien, correct?" Ophelia quizzed, the group at her rear slanting their brows fretfully.

"Correct."

"I heard your story," Ophelia snickered amusingly, pacing with an anecdote, "You were a farmer's daughter who met Loghain by accident. He was being pursued by bandits so you helped him defeat them. Subsequently, you found out who he was and easily volunteered service then climbed the ranks and became a lieutenant."

"Do you have a point to make, Grey Warden? We are patiently waiting for your answer," Cauthrien callously reminded.

"I merely wanted to say that we are alike in many ways..." Ophelia described in detail, "A woman – a warrior – a leader – for example," and then she laughed at the coincidence, "We sort of even have the same hairstyle." Enigmatically, her speech altered into something more melancholic, gesturing with a firm digit which underlined her thesis, "But… The one – sole – solitary difference which separates us, _however~_?" she enlightened like a chantry's revered mother, "Is that I am not a pathetic and cowardly lapdog who straddles a hook-nosed man's filthy little–"

"If you wish a fight, Cousland..." Cauthrien stonily brandished her Summer Sword and taunted, "Say so."

"_Ooooh..._That's a nice sword." Ophelia remarked with artificial curiosity, "Looks heavy though... Do you suppose you can wield it efficiently enough to brutally strike me with a killing blow?"

Cauthrien snapped, "Enough chatter! Your only options are to surrender or fight. Choose now."

"Hmph. How unfortunate... I thought we could get to know each other a little more before..."

"Make your choice, Warden, or we _will _attack now."

"Ophelia... Surrender, please…" Leliana dried her eyes a bit more and opined, "You could die. _We _could die."

"No. We fight. We have already killed more to get this far," Sten asserted.

"Ophelia, please!" Leliana mumbled, "You're not in your right frame of mind…"

"Either option… Will be difficult," Zevran acquiesced.

Ophelia perused the opposing troops, "You have a dozen archers, five warriors, and one mage..." then she deliberately confirmed, "I think we can handle this."

"Ophelia!" Leliana shouted in negation but rapidly equipped her bow.

Cauthrien barked vociferously, "Bring them down! Loghain wants the Warden dead or alive!"

_It was incredible how she flicked several stilettos in a brisk sequence and it struck the mage plus some others in their vitals, eliminating them. Then, the lieutenant roared with fury and dueled her, waving her great sword in a pendulum that crushed the flooring when it missed. It was so easy for her dodge it, but an arrow impaled her on a shoulder and stunned her, then it just… Happened._

Leliana could feel her vocal chords become strain as she screeched at the top of her lungs, "_NOOO!_"

The terror of losing her power to sing from screeching so hard didn't even come to her mind as the terror of Cauthrien driving her Summer Sword straight into Ophelia's gut shook her very being.

[-]

_To sacrifice everything just like that like she had given up…_

_Was vengeance all she wanted to accomplish?_

[-]

_Oh I'm hoping you'll understand,  
>And not let go of my hand.<em>

[-]

Crimson cerise tinting gleaming white teeth, overflowed from its containing cavity, then spurted out of a quivering lower lip, the bucketing liquid like the devil's waterfall.

Ophelia gripped the steel that impaled her and tilted her head weakly upwards, "Do you suppose this will kill me... Cauthrien?"

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"In for the Kill" by La Roux (Skream Remix)

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><p><strong>Feedback for God of Love<strong>

**Dalish Elf**: Thank you! I'm very glad to hear you're addicted! How's this chapter for ya? :D

**LunarOphelia13**: Haha. I watched Claymore too. I liked Ophelia too! And Teresa. But I swear, I liked the name before that. I actually liked the name because of the song 'Opheliac.' Btw, I wrote a short with Moria and Ophelia as a child. You should read it if you haven't already. And maybe review it. ;)

**Lord Tubbington**: Yes, wait 1 more chapter. But I didn't say they'll go back together! I'm not saying they will either. I just said that I wanted you to tell me what you think about what I'll do to Morrigan and Ophelia in that chapter. I want it to be completely vague. Haha. And wow, how long did 13 chapters take you? I'm flattered. :3

**egiaprevolg**: Well thanks for choosing this as your first Morrigan story! Lemme tell you how passionate I am for that character... VERY. LOL.

**Anonomous**: Yes yes. I realized this theory too, long ago. But why should we make them know that? I wouldn't have a reason to write if they did. :P

**lunavixen**: I do realize that when I cut the bullshet and just summarize, it will have a backwards feel to it. But then again, I think it's better than describing boring and unnecessary details. Thanks for the generosity with this rating, I guess. XD

**Guest 1**: Oooh, please describe how others are halting or jerky. I wish to know. XD And thanks for the compliment. Btw, who said they're not getting back together? ;) PS. You can sign your reviews as Guest 1 if you want.

**Guest 2**: AWESOME! How much do you love it? Review again if you love it a lot. :D

Thanks for the compliments and reviewing everyone! Review again please.

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><p>AN: BAHAHA. My first cliffhanger. How did I do? Tell me. I stayed up until 2 AM just to finish this, mind you (review and show me love.) I think it needs to be edited a lot. Idk, enlighten me.

Btw, the next chapters are quite detailed in my head and I'm afraid that if I rush it, I won't portray it right so... I might take my time on the next chapters. Actually, all the way up to the end, I think. That's assuming you all want quality writing from me!

And guys, I did a well-known Dragon Age meme in dA so go check out my art! Lots of Morrigan and Ophelia hotness. Check it!

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	16. Chapter 16 Eyes on Fire

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_Minor Edit: April 6th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 16 - <strong>Eyes on Fire<strong>

* * *

><p><em>I'll seek you out,<br>Flay you alive,  
>One more word and you won't survive.<em>

[-]

"You..." the baffled gruff voice paused, cautiously assessing the wheezing woman in front, "You're mad..."

"Shame..." crimson-tainted lips stated without gurgle but with mock pity, a partial grin delicately forming, "You won't live long enough to know..."

A fleeting gasp escaped the clueless brunette before a lone dagger spun in midair, stung her eyes with its callous sheen, then swished in a snap and slit her neck, her blood instantly spraying skywards as she gargled to a collapse downwards, "_youuu..._"

The unremitting dithering of her eyes revealed the gravity of her unprecedented horror – that the rogue had blatantly accepted a sword into her gut just to deceive her into receiving an even more fatal wound.

The lieutenant landed with a firm thud by Ophelia's leisurely evading boots, her blonde head curiously tilting down to smirk at her achievement.

Quickly bored with the sight, she clasped the hilt of the Summer Sword, groaned once, then giggled, wincingly yet casually drawing out the six-foot steel defacing her perfect stature. With one vigorous pull and a strong spurt of her blood outwards, the hefty claymore was released from her gaping abdomen. She wielded it comfortably with one hand and straightened her profusely bleeding posture while leisurely licking her lips like it was the most precious delicacy, humming in delight as she relished the metallic flavor.

_"OPHELIAAA!"_

Amidst the continuous clangs of clashing swords, she heard Leliana scream desperately, her immediate sob afterwards an underpinning evidence of her utter anxiety – but her simultaneous grunts suggested that she was struggling against their opponents, unable to reach her injured lover to relieve her grief.

"OPHELIA, WATCH OUT!"

Zevran yelled as well and Ophelia finally turned to sidestep out of a long sword's vertical swipe then twisted on one foot like a half-pirouette and slashed the incoming aggressor horizontally with Cauthrien's weapon, allowing her spinning's momentum to carry the blade and easily behead the warrior. Not a second later, another soldier advanced on her with a battle cry. Using her free hand, she propelled a stiletto and it embedded precisely in between his brows before he could think.

Without warning, she twitched from the spasm of her wounded stomach being strained and wrapped a forearm across her waist, putting futile pressure as her eyes tapered from the agony.

About fifty feet from her, three archers extended their bow strings firmly and aimed for her, tauntingly. She observed them then snickered, sensing that she had used the last of her stilettos and that her greaves were getting soaked by her blood, inside and out.

Her head drooped dizzyingly.

"_Let me out…"_

Right then, an overwhelming blizzard forced the immense doors of the antechamber to open, its hardwood striking the adjacent walls with a raucous bang.

Everyone else in the room tilted their heads to survey the distraction, but suddenly, a chain of thunderous lightning erupted from the mist and struck the grouped archers, causing them to fly violently against a wall.

"Morrigan?" Zevran exclaimed with shock after the mist died down, taking out his dagger from an enemy he had stabbed.

The witch ignored the elf's call and urgently scanned for the woman she terribly sought for. When her eyes connected with hers, they broadened and she gasped.

"_Ophelia!_"

Her trembling voice echoed with the bard and they ran for their leader's slumped form which was kneeled down with her blonde head propped heavily against the great sword she implanted upright on the floor.

Morrigan sounded shaken as she got ahold of the dazed out Warden first and cradled her gently, settling her head by her chest, "Ophelia…" The bloodied scoundrel's half-lidded eyes and short yet rapid pants dented her growing guilt with every breath – so she stroked her face tenderly, craving to comfort her, "Stay still. I'll take care of you…"

With bizarre childlike interest, Ophelia gazed up at her and uttered low, a smile gracing her paling visage before fainting, "_Moira…_"

Along with her lower lip falling ajar, Morrigan's remaining resolve sank through the abysmal depths of her demolished heart.

_Had she forgotten? Was she too dazed and confused?_

"Ophelia!" Leliana arrived after a mere few seconds and gingerly stole her from the sorceress' arms, "I'm here..." she whispered softly to unconscious Warden's forehead while tears poured down her cheeks, "I'm here…"

Morrigan stared blankly at them for a couple of seconds, until the reality hit her, "Leliana, let me stop her bleeding or she _will _die!" she berated with worry and fury, an uncompromising hand reclaiming its spot by Ophelia's side.

"She's right, Leliana… Ophelia could die," Zevran advocated, consoling the red head with a hand to her shoulder.

"Then do it! You don't have to touch her face!" Leliana spat accusingly with a glare.

"I…" Morrigan was taken aback by the comment, shocked that Leliana had seen her and scolded her about it. _But why should she listen? They wouldn't be together if not for her..._"I was in the process of doing so!" she retorted sharply and with absolute tenacity, causing Leliana to quietly permit the dark head to tend to Ophelia.

As if to break the impending quarrel, Anora stepped in and interrupted with conviction, "We should get her to Arl Eamon's estate before my father sends more guards," her countenance was strict yet surprisingly sympathetic.

Morrigan looked up at her sternly and indicated without concession, "'Twill only take a moment." Not to waste any more time, her right hand began to glow a warm white and she pressed her palm over Ophelia's gruesome gut, scrunching her eyebrows to focus on temporarily mending it.

In a spur of the empathic aspect of the treatment, she realized that the injury was worse than she had imagined and her nose wrinkled consequently from disgust, "_WHAT IN DAMNATION HAPPENED?_" she bellowed to Leliana then Zevran, aurous irises burning holes into their souls and summoning awful lumps in their throats.

"How is she?!" Leliana nervously inquired instead, distraught from Morrigan's inclination of Ophelia's severe condition.

"'Twas foolish for both of you to consent her into entering Howe's estate!" Morrigan irately reproached and imparted them with a daunting scoff then swiftly resumed her attention to Ophelia, aware that she had a more imperative task than haranguing them.

"Will she be okay?" Leliana peered pleadingly over the mage, sapphire eyes hemmed with enflamed veins.

"We were unprepared. She was determined to save Anora," Zevran murmured mutedly in the background but Morrigan ignored his earnest excuse. "But we also knew about Howe... And…" He hesitated in deliberation, swallowing his shame then angrily picking up an ax and throwing it across the room to shatter a large vase, "We couldn't get through to her!"

"I wished I could've stopped her… I did. I regret that I was too weak…" Leliana beat a fist into her lap and her voice cracked in despondency, on the brink of bawling once more, "_Please…_Tell me she'll be okay… She has to be."

"Hand me the bandages. We must get her out of here," Morrigan only instructed coldly, referring to any of the soundless bystanders behind her.

Sten retrieved the mentioned item from a backpack then calmly handed it to Morrigan. "Shall I carry her?" he offered after she had acquired the bundle.

Uninterested to give a reply at once, Morrigan silently swathed Ophelia's midsection while the others simply mulled over their predicament, faces helplessly downcast.

When she finished, she regarded Sten with the least animosity and declared, "Carry her."

Sten nodded then circled around to do as she ordered, Leliana reticently reeling backwards out of his way.

"Mind her abdominal area. Whatever you do, do not exert it," Morrigan concluded then veered her head aside abruptly, a flutter of her eyelashes tempting to relinquish her tears.

"Understood," Sten steadily hooked his arms under Ophelia, his huge physique enabling him to lift her without bending her upper body. He took the inaudible cue and exited the battered doors of the estate with a placid but brisk walk, the rest of the group trailing behind him out to the midnight alleys.

The moon shined sufficiently to light the blackness of the route back to Arl Eamon's estate. The narrow passageways were peaceful and cleared of guards, villagers nearby either sleeping or possibly peeping privately through their windows.

"Morrigan!" Leliana beseeched repeatedly, striving to catch up with the ominous enchantress.

"Morrigan!"

"Please!"

"I beg you!"

"Morrigan, _please_…"

"Say something!"

Morrigan ultimately snarled ruthlessly, "I DON'T KNOW!" She did say something – but it wasn't what Leliana anticipated at all and she nearly staggered backwards from an overwhelming flinch.

"THIS IS _YOUR_ FAULT! IF I HAD KNOWN, 'TWOULD NOT END THIS WAY!" Morrigan sneered with scorn then shoved her cruelly, cat eyes shedding a stream of tears, "I PLACED HER UNDER _YOUR_ CARE! YOU PATHETIC WEAKLING!"

Leliana cried as she stumbled and plummeted hard on the cold pavement, a puddle of filthy water sullying her face.

"STOP!" Zevran intervened by grappling the aggressive Witch of the Wilds who then struggled to cast a destructive spell.

"I'M SORRY!" Leliana managed in between deep huffs for air, not particularly trying to avoid the ball of fire that might be sent in her direction.

"LET GO OF ME!" Morrigan elbowed Zevran with anger-fueled vigor, extinguished her flames, then shunted the shorter man backwards. "YOU ARE JUST AS WORTHLESS AS THAT STUPID BARD!" she shouted viciously and bumped him aside before storming past the onlookers.

He exhaled heavily then tried to lend a hand to the dejected songstress, vexing to persevere, "Come, Leliana."

But she shook her head and chose to be left alone to her misery, burying her shuddering self to the ground with a desolate moan.

"Leliana…"

"_I…DESERVE…THIS!_" the words came out so ragged and disparaging that Zevran had frowned and rubbed her back soothingly.

Anora and Erlina scowled from behind but kindly beckoned for the Antivan to leave with them, warning that their enemies could be around the corner – but he declined and they tentatively departed, Sten being the only one who had promptly shadowed Morrigan.

[-]

_And I'm not scared,  
>Of your stolen power,<br>I see right through you any hour._

[-]

Hours had passed in the melancholic manor after Leliana and Zevran's late arrival. Eamon, Anora, Erlina, and most of the party had conversed about the trials that the set group undertook but solely interrogated Leliana and Zevran, while Sten occasionally chimed in for clarification.

In a distant and separate room, Wynne and Morrigan had wholly attended to Ophelia. They removed her tattered armor, meticulously cleaned her, then laid her body on a special bed and commenced the main restoration process, their hands hovering and absolving benevolent energy slightly over her.

All the while, Morrigan's golden globes were locked on her ex-lover, admiring her slumbering frame. The gore of her injury was off-putting but didn't undermine her beauty. Ophelia's mien was very tranquil, only minimally thin scratches proposing otherwise. The pacifying candle on the nightstand dimly accentuated her lightly damp nose, cheeks, and chin, and attractively tinted the hills and valleys of her slender toned build. She wasn't entirely naked, undergarments conveniently covering her private parts. But Morrigan _had_ seen them when they had cleaned her – and she _had_ seen them in the past when they had made love countless times.

How she cringed deeply at the thought of touching her again… Or being intimately touched by her instead, with that unparalleled passion she so dreadfully missed. With one mere sensual glimpse and one mere tantalizing touch – Morrigan was intoxicated with her all over again.

_If she could just entwine their limbs again, just to feel connected to her powerful yet fragile figure and drowse numbly to her heartbeat…_

"Morrigan…" Wynne disturbed her reverie, her soft-spoken voice somehow irritating her, "If you are tired of healing, there are mages outside that can briefly replace you."

Morrigan blinked twice to regain her concentration then responded flatly, "No. I would rather do this myself and ascertain that she will heal to the fullest extent."

"It was a suggestion. I recognize that this isn't your primary school of magic," Wynne explicated compassionately. It was puerile that yesterday she had secretly hoped for the temptress to leave for good, but then came the time they had to work together – she was reminded of why she had formerly approved of her for Ophelia. Beneath the impermeable shell, Morrigan was delicate and malleable like any other woman.

Noticing the virtually empty bottle of lyrium, Wynne withdrew her hands and patted them on her lap, announcing as she stood from her chair, "I will get more lyrium. I won't be long."

To acknowledge that she was heard, Morrigan gave the older woman a once-over prior to her hurried tread to the door.

It opened with a prolonged creak, then Wynne was gone and Morrigan was alone.

_Alone…_

_With a critically incapacitated woman…_

_A woman she adored and could've perished…_

The tiny candle's swaying flame and the shadows it rendered waltzing on the walls were the only things moving in the room for a period of time, everything else gloomily stagnant.

Seemingly back in her stupor, Morrigan's left hand deviated and grasped a tan hand, blurting out affectionately on a whim, "I cannot fathom why you are constantly determined to hurt yourself…" she raised it and lowered her own head in order to meet halfway and have it cup her cheek, a single tear running down to the frigid but welcoming fingers, "I did not wish for your love. I despised its dependency. You were aware of that," she bit her lips when they quivered, "_And yet_…"

"Yet she loved you and you returned it. Even at present," Wynne untimely appeared behind her, flasks of lyrium on a tray which she moved to deliver on a desk by the bed. She took her seat across the brunette then divulged truthfully, "I could see the difference in the way she looked at Leliana and the way she looked at you. Not to mention, the way you looked at her minutes ago and now, a flicker of intense longing in your eyes."

Morrigan positioned Ophelia's hand back to where it was at her side then furtively wiped the remainder of her tear.

"You broke her heart too late in the relationship. If you stayed with her, perhaps– "

"No," Morrigan, straightened her spine and pondered doggedly, "I should've never gotten too close – then everything would be better." In below a second, she resiliently redeemed her cool composure.

"Then you would've endured as the heartless witch every person perceives you to be," Wynne sighed profoundly then complained in frustration, "You are both stubborn and should just do what your heart desires."

"_Love is death_…" Morrigan spoke under her breath. She was about to situate her left hand to resume healing when Wynne insisted otherwise.

"Stop for a moment. Let us examine the wound."

"Must we?"

"Yes."

Morrigan complied, detaching her hands and half-tetchily crossing her arms, then Wynne bent over and inspected the disfiguration.

Her serious expression morphed into an astounded one as Ophelia's nerves and muscles curled and bounded to each other by themselves.

Annoyed by the speechless reaction, Morrigan leaned on her elbows and peeked for herself. Instantaneously, a coarse squeak ruptured their ears as she pushed out of her seat, the sight directly perturbing her, "'Tis nearly half less hollow…" she deduced, fingers edgily gripping the bed sheets, "I could not sense it before but she is…"

"Healing quickly," Wynne ended in a mumble.

Appalled, Morrigan purely gawked, her chest tightening and her stomach knotting as small beads of sweat around her forehead began to materialize.

[-]

_I won't soothe your pain,  
>I won't ease your strain,<br>You've been waiting in vain,  
>I've got nothing for you to gain.<em>

[-]

"And this flesh is regenerating at an outstanding speed, you say?" Eamon queried in a bit of alarming tone, pointing at Ophelia's middle skeptically as he bordered her bed.

"Yes. Even with our synchronized healing, a wound as lethal as hers should not recover this fast. Three weeks to a month at the _very_ least," Wynne enlightened with certainty.

"And neither of you can comprehend why?" Eamon upturned his eyebrows inquisitively at the two women who bade him in.

"She is no mage," Morrigan affirmed austerely, the petty curving of her lips downwards marking her discreet distress; "It _cannot_ be blood magic – 'tis _beyond_ normal."

Expounding on their bewilderment further, Wynne added, "In the several instances that she was hurt before, she had _never_ shown this capability."

Next to Eamon, Alistair eventually stepped forward and probed Morrigan, "After Ostagar… In Flemeth's hut… Did she heal this fast?"

"No. She did not," she straightforwardly replied.

"Then…" Alistair scratched the nape of his neck, hesitant to speculate, "Why just recently?"

Morrigan shrugged then contemplatively beheld Ophelia, unknown thoughts spiraling in her cognizance.

Eamon scrubbed his beard. "Well… Essentially, this is good news if she is mended properly. We will need her for the Landsmeet," he proclaimed optimistically then considered the contrary, "However, from the looks of your grim faces, there is an unfamiliar force that triggered this abnormality." Clasping his hands behind his back, he assertively prodded, "Wynne, you are an experienced senior enchanter and specialized in spiritual healing, what would you suggest should be done?"

"Presently… I suppose we can continue with the healing. Though, at a slower pace to be safe and find an answer…" Wynne paused, a prospect developing to her attention, "We can call Irving to determine a guaranteed explanation, _but_…"

Morrigan abruptly interrupted, "'Twill take a while and 'tis futile. I have a confident suspicion as to what this is…" she loomed before Ophelia and firmly planted her hands at either side of the blonde's head, definitively poring over the comatose woman, "She had merged with a demon and procured its valuable perks."

"What?" the three other individuals harmonized.

"Ophelia?" Alistair exclaimed indignantly, emphasizing his disbelief with gestures, "Are you sure, Morrigan? She's never been the type to entertain demons. Let alone become… Half one!"

"Never entertained them for others behalf but did for herself," Morrigan assumed basically. "Use your newfound brain, Alistair. The brief episodes of her madness? 'Twas provoked by this crack in her personality!" she crossly elucidated.

"But how do you know for sure? You don't know what it's like to be in her shoes!" Alistair countered, intimidatingly progressing on the sorceress.

Morrigan's countenance fermented, her voice elevating to a petulant magnitude, "One is not obligated to walk in her shoes to discern this much! The fact of the matter is that she has uncanny abilities a typical human cannot enjoy!"

To mitigate the heating disagreement, Wynne informatively interjected, "Demons feed on the darker parts of a mortal's psyche – rage, hunger, desire… But they usually possess a being and do not merge with it..." Alistair dropped his argument and calmed at her account. "It is a plausible justification for this and her insanity. Nevertheless, we will require confirmation."

"Ophelia is wise and formidable…" Morrigan uttered logically, semi-ogling the rogue once again. "During the fusion, she may have overcome the demon. Though she is young, and lacks perfect control."

"But this is Ophelia…" Alistair protested, unwavering in his faith for his Grey Warden partner. "Why would she do it?"

"Judging by her character…" Wynne reasoned fairly but saddened, "She may not have had a choice at the time, Alistair."

"More or less…" Morrigan drifted off to a nearby window and gazed out into the dawning light outside, glumly muttering, "She had become an abomination…"

Alistair stiffly disapproved, exhibiting his fervent veneration, "No. Ophelia is not an abomination. She is our leader, our friend, and a Grey Warden. Nothing else."

"Listen," Eamon finally joined the emotional discussion only to present an ultimatum, "The real question I want answered here is whether she will become a danger or not."

Wynne cleared her throat and ruminated first, "Without a doubt… Ophelia _is_ good. She had accomplished a lot for Ferelden. We _cannot_ condemn her so easily."

"'Tis not an option…" Morrigan advocated sincerely, "And will never be one."

Eamon distinguished the mild insinuation of credence in her language and opportunely enquired, "You have an idea… Morrigan?"

"Let us heal her and wait for her to awaken…" Morrigan was frolicking with the laces of her scanty top when a bird that swooped down to a tree outside caught her eye and she established, "I wish to speak with her."

[-]

_I'm taking it slow,  
>Feeding my flame,<br>Shuffling the cards of your game,  
>And just in time,<br>In the right place,  
>Suddenly I will play my ace.<em>

[-]

A knock resounded through the door. "It's Leliana and Zevran…" the Orlesian's muffled voice came through.

"Come in," Wynne permitted.

"How…" Leliana skimmed the bedroom, relieved that Ophelia seemed better but also startled that Morrigan wasn't there, "Is she?"

"She will be fine, Leliana," Wynne reassured while they picked up a couple of chairs from the side, fixed it by the bed across her, then propped on it. "Sooner than you think."

"Are you sure?" Leliana brought a finger up and stroked Ophelia's smooth cheek lovingly, moving stray tresses to blend with her sprawled hair.

"I am positive," Wynne smiled amiably.

"I was so worried…" Leliana inclined and kissed the slightly bronze forehead, shutting her azure eyes momentarily to cherish it.

"So was I," Zevran stoically seconded, head slouched but facing toward Ophelia.

"She appears so serene, unlike…" Leliana grimaced bitterly, "What had happened…"

"I have witnessed and executed many murders as an assassin…" Zevran massaged his temples then partially hid his face with his hands, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, "But what transpired at Howe's estate was a bloodbath that cannot be equaled to anything I have ever seen."

Noticing the surfacing bags under their eyes, Wynne advised, "You two should go take a rest. Everything will be fine."

"No. We'll stay," Leliana opposed.

Prohibited by Arl Eamon, no one was allowed to visit Ophelia for a prolonged duration. Neither Leliana nor Zevran – it was a customary protocol for emergency situations that had to be abided by. So they acquiescently obliged, impatiently dawdling for hours until they were given the go ahead. And now, they would exploit the time that they were granted for as long as they could.

And they did. Various more hours had passed that Wynne had taken a break and Zevran had passed out on the side of the bed, his head securely tucked in his arms.

Leliana retained her strength, sitting stationary and just musing over fond memories while the sun's gallant rays seeped through the windows' dainty white drapes and casted a faded analgesic luminosity.

"Satisfied with the damage you had irresponsibly endorsed, Leliana?" Morrigan unexpectedly and cuttingly indicted by the door.

Leliana quailed inwardly as she bashfully pivoted around to see her. Incapable to and not requesting for a verbal fight, she appealed humbly, "Morrigan… You have the right to be livid. Ophelia could've died and I…" she smeared the tears she tried to hold unto then consequently sobbed, "I apologize for what happened. If it weren't for you… She could've been worse… I had been meaning to thank you…"

At her weeping, Zevran woke up and torpidly gaped at them.

"Spare me from the worthless sentimentalities. Save it for somebody who might display interest," Morrigan apathetically waved a dismissive hand then portentously sashayed to the other end of the bed, preparing a wet towel.

"Morrigan…" Zevran scowled at her malice for a second then carefully grabbed a demoralized Leliana by the arm, "Let's go."

"Yes," Morrigan criticized emotionlessly, "You both do not belong here and are of no benefit but a disruption."

Leliana bit her lip sorrowfully one last time then gradually got on her feet when Zevran tugged her and convinced, "Let's go."

[-]

_I won't soothe your pain,  
>I won't ease your strain,<br>You've been waiting in vain,  
>I've got nothing for you to gain.<em>

[-]

The third sun shrunk lower and lower over the panorama of streets and buildings, its lasting blessing a tepid cloak fashioned with supple ochre.

In its farewell spectacle – by an ornamental stone, by a liquid cascade, and by a basin of ripples – fretful feminine fingers traced an arch of etiolating spicy lips, the sensation engulfing what was tempestuous.

Further enhancing, the rhythmic drizzles, droplets, and wrinkles – synthesized a therapeutic ambience which sailed with the unwelcome sentiments.

But the lingering conception prevailed…

_The incident after her mother's death…_

"Morrigan."

The wind carried a voice and pierced like the sound of thunder after lightning crackling through – innocently detrimental yet inexplicably soothing.

"Did it ever occur to you... That I sacrificed so much… For you?"

Genial daffodils bloomed exposed. "Ophelia... You're awake…"

"I sacrificed... So much…" Ophelia puffed while clinching her bandaged waist, her platinum orbs fatigued but somehow radiant in their plea. She was clad in leather pants but shirtless, just a bra to cover her chest and her abdomen coated by remnants of her bleeding.

Morrigan contritely deterred from the rivet, "I… I know… And…" but then she reverted it back and pronounced with a faint smile, "I am tremendously grateful," however, it deteriorated just as swiftly, "Your wounds... They heal at an aberrantly accelerated rate," she pointed out somberly.

Ophelia dramatically proceeded a foot toward her, phlegmatically decreeing, "I did it... For you. I _sacrificed _my dwindling clasp on sanity and chased gravity... For you."

"Please… Ophelia… I do not wish for a conflict. Tell me..." Morrigan apprehensively ventured, her voice dismal and slow, "That you truly are… _Not_ a monster."

"Monster…" Ophelia repeated devoid of ardor or agitation, then suddenly _–_ she snickered derisively, her cackle causing heedless birds in the vicinity to flock away frantically. "Does it make a difference what you call it?" she brusquely questioned afterwards, a wickedness encompassing her lips.

Morrigan was totally crestfallen from the blatant indication, shivering from the terror inside as her heart's pounding escalated. "_Why, Ophelia?_ Which demon have you made a deal with? A sloth demon...? A desire demon...?" she swallowed, the likelihood unnerving her to the core, "..._A pride...demon?_"

"When I killed Flemeth alone, I tapped into the other... Less masochistic side of me. I haven't for a long long time. But now... I must say..." Ophelia ravenously inhaled a lavish amount of air and morbidly emphasized, her eyes bulging wide, "That I've never felt so alive."

"Have a significant care for what you choose to embrace, Ophelia!" Morrigan climactically forewarned, a mix of ire and desperation in her tone, "And I did not ask for you to kill her alone!"

Ophelia grinned then spread her arms open, her torso veering backwards in self-satisfaction, "But wasn't it so much better? You couldn't be judged by the others and suspect you of evil things," she announced with a tad of comedy.

Morrigan practically yelled, "They can judge me as they please, I would not mind!" she thrust a hand out reprovingly, "Why and when did you make the deal?"

_"She doesn't know of all the pain and anguish you've been through. She has no right to denunciate you for your choice."_

Ophelia's lips sealed into a thin line, "It is none of your concern. You should be grateful for all of the wonderful things that I have done for you," the words she pronounced were in monotone.

"_You…_" Morrigan's shoulders rose and fell, the newly whittled trench in her heart instigating the insufferable palpitation, "You are just like Flemeth… You are essentially like the very thing I had been endangered from since I was a child."  
><em><br>"We are better than Flemeth."_

"Don't you dare compare me to her! She's a frail old wretch!" Ophelia sneered, her head plunging forward and her unkempt hair fluctuating with her movement from the quake of her wrath.

"You are a brilliant woman, Ophelia. But you have made a foolish choice," Morrigan's shapely brows were hopelessly crumpled and mouth closing to a frown; the possibility of an amorous reunion had disappeared.

"No. The only foolish choice I have ever made was _you_!"

"I was never a choice to begin with," Morrigan desolately explained, "You forced it, Ophelia!"  
><em><br>"She used you."_

"YOU USED ME!"

"I ASKED YOU A FAVOR!"

_"Not just any favor."_

In an unforeseen silent interval, Morrigan exasperatedly whispered, her bangs shadowing her teary visage, "Ultimately, you had the choice whether or not to fulfill it... Caring for you... As I've come to..." She tilted her chin up and the waterworks flowed naturally down her face, "Do you believe that 'twas premeditated? Calculated? Feigned?"

_"It is another one of her cajoling wiles to deceive you."_

Ophelia demonstrated no sympathy, only cynicism, "Tell me what you're planning. Leliana told me about it. That you wanted to _'save' _me from something inevitable. What is it?"

"She… _Told you?_" Morrigan shook her head and compelled herself to cease from crying, but merely managed to sniffle out, "'Twill be better if you do not know..."

The belligerent Warden ambled two more taunting steps nearer. "Why? Because I've become a threat?"

"You are more of a threat to yourself than to me, Ophelia," as a final attempt, Morrigan softly pleaded, "Please… Disentangle yourself from that demon. Let me help you."

_"She'll betray you."_

"You're planning to betray me!" In a flash, Ophelia brandished the lone dagger that was clipped to her belt at her rear and readied it with a sundering twirl.

The deed petrified Morrigan out of her skin, bringing her hands up in a defensive spell casting position, "No! Stop! I plan to save you! Do not confuse _that_ as betrayal!"

_"Why would she need to feel unbearable guilt and break your heart?"_

_"Because, in the end, she will betray you."_

"THEN TELL ME, TRAITOR!" Ophelia roared, her rage pumping through a vein on her forehead.

"TRUST ME, OPHELIA! I WOULD NEVER DELIBERATELY HURT YOU!"

Ophelia planted a foot and froze.

Then Morrigan ignited fire with her palms. "NO! NOT A STEP CLOSER!"

_"She doesn't love you, anyway."_

_"Kill her and ascertain that she does not."_

Then planting another foot, Ophelia dashed forward.

And Morrigan hurled her flames.

So Ophelia caught fire – but persevered even with the conflagration, her stiletto pinpointed on its target.

_"STOOOP!" _Morrigan endeavored, jabbing electricity out – just to get parried by a vindictive forearm then sent to the acquitted trees.

Ophelia tackled, toppling her as she plummeted backwards unto the fountain's basin.

The overwhelming burst of spattering water.

Its underwhelming rainfall downwards.

A tribute to finite.

"_NOO–––"_

The blade's steel glaze glowered...

Along with her dementedly beautiful…

Steel…

Eyes.

_"–––AAAGGHH!"_

_Eyes on fire,  
>Your spine is ablaze.<em>

A blotch of blood grew and infected the surrounding water, ebony hair becoming unbound .

_"I LOVED YOU! YOU PEASANT WHORE!"_

And the previously burning blonde had been doused by the bucketing fountain, her body a shed for who was partly submerged.

_"YOU DID THIS TO ME!"_

One hand clutching a hilt, its blade deepening over a bicep.

_"Please..."_

The other clutching a neck.

_Felling any foe with my gaze._

"_Stop..." _Morrigan begged, striving to reach Ophelia's lips with her moveable arm.

Ophelia granted her plea – but only one.

She kissed her briefly on the lips then hummed, caressing her cheek with her own cheek. "_Why won't you love meee?_"

_"opp..~heel…~iaa...pl–eaase..." _In shreds and breathless, came the nearly inaudible reply.

_And just in time,  
>In the right place,<br>Steadily emerging with grace._

_"i–"_

"_do…"_

_"loo..–..ve…"_

"_you…"_

_Felling any foe with my gaze,  
>Steadily emerging with grace.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Eyes on Fire" by Blue Foundation (Recommended: Zeds Dead Remix)

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for In for the Kill<strong>

**Lord Tubbington**: This is the chapter you've been waiting for. I think... And six or seven hours? Wow. I don't ever read that much even. Then again, I hate to read actually. XD Thanks for your efforts to read this! I am very very happy to hear that someone would do such to read my stories!

**Oblivion94**: Thanks! Now tell me why you would love Ophelia in that chapter. I would like to hear it. :D

**Guest 1**: Ah, I see. I do summarize things to make things clearer. I'm glad it works. And what expectations did I meet, exactly? Enlighten me please. xD S2

**AD Lewis**: Andy? XD Why the change of name? Anyway, it's cool to hear from you again. Here's where I took it. How did I do? xP

**LunarOphelia13**: Thanks! And here's more blood and cliffhangers. Don't die. I need you to review. xD

**LycanRed**: Generous ratings! Thanks! And yes, it was intentional. Just to build it up to what happened here. xP

**Sarion**: OMG. Thank you for all the great and detailed reviews! I will try to reply to all of them here. XD Oh, and I should say thanks for the compliments and ratings now, before I repeat myself.

...1. Yes. I take my time to research dialogue I can use here. I tweak it a little bit but it's still about the same. :D I need to explore all the options too, actually...

...2. Baah. I'll try to add more game dialogue. Lately, it's been challenging to tie them in with my story. Great to hear you think I'm funny! S2

...3. You're not the first to be revolted. I guess I really made an image in everyone's heads there. Sorry. xD

...4. I really thought that friendly-fire thing could cause drama so I used it. And yes, I took the careless personal attack from past experiences. We all say things we don't mean to say.

...5. You're right. I should've described the markings more detailed. You could be my editor! XD Hehe. The 99 problems thing was out of a whim. You're the first to notice though! Kudos to you! Lol.

...6. I imagined since Morrigan is very sexual... The first stages of their romance would be very sexual. Hence that chapter. Don't worry about being too long! (Haha take that however you want it.) I appreciate your reviews! I'm sorry if mine are too short.

...7. I personally think that Zevran is witty. I'm interested to know why you might not like him. xD Idk why ME doesn't draw me in that well. I'm just not that interested for some reason.

...8. Yuuup. Anything that Morrigan does that isn't glaring is pretty darn adorable. But her glaring is adorable too. Haha.

...9. Does the tree-beating make sense now? Idk how to properly throw these clues out there. Huhu. There are some videos of rogues soloing bosses on YouTube that I came across. It's possible with the right equipment and pots I guess. I should try it sometime.

...10. When you romance Zevran, he's quite a different person. It shows more of his serious side. I think if you did that once, the happenings here won't seem that strange, I guess. XD

...11. Damn. What a rating. Lol. In the end, I might edit all of this to perfect it. I'll definitely be taking everything you said into consideration. I realize that it could use some expanding.

...12. This chapter was meant for her vulnerability, you are dead-on with your observations!

...13. Hehe. Yes. You're a military man. It's no surprise. ;) Even I don't cry in movies like the Notebook. I cry inside though. XD

...14. The Ashes weren't that boring for me. Idk. I think the Dalish quest was more boring. And oh good! I've made you like Zevran!

...15. Haha. I was half-expecting you to correct me on realism or something. Lol. Definitely my first time writing gore. Eviscerating would be one of the most painful tortures, right? And sorry for this cliffhanger. xD

**whiskered oranges**: Lol. It's okay. Just post as a guest if you want if you don't want to log but sign it with your name. I hate the stupid re-logging thing too. Why couldn't I just stay on forever? Ah, you're messed up for liking that. Lol, jk. S2 But yes. There's no other way to properly avenge them than torture.

**Bonobo**: And I am depriving myself of sleep just to write for all y'all! I am so haaaappppyyyy to hear that I cause people to read my fic for hours. You guys make my day! :D

Thanks for the compliments and reviewing everyone! Review again please.

* * *

><p>AN: Another cliffhanger! I did intend to do that too. I hope you guys don't hate me too much for this parallel chapter ending. It sets up nicely for the next chapter so...

THIS WILL BE EDITED MORE. I just wanted to post it or you might have to wait a few more days before I can. I know I said that this chapter means a lot to me (particularly the ending) so I'll definitely have to work on it some more.

Did another meme art... A couple meme. It's even better than the other one so check it. I might do some comic in the future with enough interest...

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	17. Chapter 17 Infinity

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_Minor Edit: April 7th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 17 - <strong>Infinity<strong>

* * *

><p>Gravel shifted under shuffling leather bister boots; the tedium engendered by prolonged idleness taking over.<p>

Even the passing horde of children's merry bickering and laughter that reflected the sunny midday didn't invigorate the adolescent who was propped against a school exit's rock wall, waiting ever so patiently for her own pupil to arrive.

And after a meticulous check of her fingernails, a sophisticated readjustment of her sleek ponytail, numerous immense yawns, and the cynical thought of blatant tardiness later, her pupil did arrive.

"Hi Moira!" the short-haired blonde girl emerged from the scattering crowd, fashioning a burgundy jacket that was uniform for an upper-class school, fitted dark trousers, and chestnut ankle-length boots. She waved a hand briefly then jogged hurriedly to hurl her arms ardently around Moira's slim waist and curl her fingers against her cream tank top, "You look exceptionally gorgeous this morning," she gazed up at her with a bright smile and sparkling crystal blue eyes.

"Hi Ophelia," Moira greeted dully and patted her back dismissively. She was taller than average but she reckoned that the girl leaning her head barely against her collarbone would be taller in time. "You look like the exceptional brat as always," she gazed down at her with an apathetic expression and emotionless amber eyes.

Ophelia remained resilient, shoving her hands in her messenger bag and lessening its bulkiness by cupping out a ceramic vase adorned with attractive assorted roses. "We made these in my art class. They said to give it to the most beautiful person in the world to honor the day of Lady–"

"Oh?" Moira snatched the gift brusquely, retaining her indifferent mien, "I'll take it."

"Great," Ophelia beamed optimistically as her mentor inspected it carefully.

Moira smelled the flowers inside of it fleetingly then using an index, she trailed the artistically placed symmetrical crevices of the teal painted pottery, pursing her lips and haughtily tilting her head rearwards before revealing her verdict: "_Hmm_. This isn't bad. I can put it on my windowsill."

Ophelia clasped her hands together then brought it by her chin like an answered prayer, "Great!" She exhibited her signature adorableness: her eyes were twinkling like a lone star left to shine luminously, her lower lip was bitten in coyly but cute, and her shoulders were upraised tightly with anticipation.

Her signature adorableness would've worked splendidly if Moira wasn't Moira.

But alas… Moira was Moira.

"What?" Moira quirked a brow at her questioningly and condescendingly, "You're not actually expecting that I'll kiss you for this one, do you?" she rested the back of one wrist on a hip and jutted her upper body frontwards to glower at the unshakeable child.

"_Mmhmm_. Yes ma'am. Still am," Ophelia nodded with confidence.

"Tough luck, kid. Still no," Moira coldly denied, her sharp tone shattering the youngster's dreams like fragile porcelain lashed by a whip set on fire and quickly crumbling.

Ophelia's mouth fell agape then scowled, "But it is the best thing I have ever made. And I've chosen to give it to you! Shouldn't that account for a little something?" she squeaked, tears on the verge of forming.

"No," Moira asserted her rejection, carelessly handing back the playschool crockery, "Here, you can have it back if you'd like."

Ophelia timidly accepted the return forced upon her chest then looked down upon it as if it was a dead kitten beaten by a mabari.

"Stop," Moira warned firmly while Ophelia started to shudder. She had been accustomed to the routine countless stints in the past and was increasingly getting sick of it. Rolling her eyes skywards, she finally decided with a swift twist away, "Okay, act all you want. I'm leaving you."

"Okay, Moira!" Ophelia stomped a decisive foot then extended the undesirable object outwards, "Fine, just… Take it..." she ashamedly averted her stare elsewhere and hesitantly proclaimed, prompting Moira to grab it and just end the charade.

"Are you ready to leave?" the older rogue irascibly probed.

Ophelia blinked twice then replied solemnly, "Yes."

"Home first."

"What?"

"We're going to your home first!" Moira huffed out, stroking her ponytail in a hint of frustration.

"But why? Mom knows," Ophelia reminded diffidently.

"She changed her mind."

"Since when?"

"Centuries ago!" gripping a tan wrist, Moira tugged her to hustle down the streets, "Just come, okay?"

"Okay!" Ophelia roared childishly, stamping her feet loudly against the cobblestone on purpose.

"You're such a brat..." Moira shook her head then released her grip, allowing her to walk faster.

"A brat who gave you a special gift…" Ophelia muttered lowly as she coolly trailed behind her callous teacher in the busy path, maneuvering around so not to bump into strangers.

"Get over it. You know it'll never happen," Moira declared with a glimpse.

Ophelia only sealed her lips into a thin line, aware of the sad fact.

[-]

Boots thumped lightly as Ophelia ambled across deluxe embroidered carpet with Moira shadowing a few steps at her rear.

The minute they had reached her home, she had led the way like usual and her companion had politely followed– their roles significantly reversed at the gate's entrance. Any favors she wished for Moira to do for her would essentially be in Moira's best interest to oblige. Though even with the authority, Ophelia had generally been kind to her – only playing the queen and bossing her around for lighthearted fun. In truth, her whole family had been kind to her – and had been incredibly tolerant of her less than friendly attitude.

Ophelia's feet sped up as they got closer to the main living room, its high mahogany doors in view and permitting a striking ray of sunshine to swim through. Stalling by the door to scan the room, she was blinded by the profuse radiance which emitted from their lofty window, causing her to squint by a margin.

"Ophelia," Eleanor Cousland christened her name sweetly like she was just five and had stayed too long on the swings unbothered.

Ophelia immediately discerned which side of the humungous room she needed to approach and moseyed towards that corner. "Mom," she delightfully expressed and simultaneously dropped her bag on the nearest couch before diving gently towards her for a hug.

"_Heeyy~_ pup." Eleanor rubbed at her daughter's head and back affectionately from her seated position on an armchair. Contented, Ophelia clinched her snugly for the last time then unburied her head from the crook of her mother's shoulder and stood. Then noticing the teenager come from a side, Eleanor acknowledged pleasantly, "And hello Moira."

The dark head simply bowed slightly for courtesy, "Teyrna Eleanor."

"Go on. Sit," Eleanor gestured for her to prop on a sofa then briskly regarded her child and wondered, her lips curving upwards, "How was studies?"

"Boring." Ophelia lethargically slumped on the largest settee like the rest wasn't big enough to support her.

Eleanor giggled, adjusting the sleeves of her elegant dress transitorily, "Besides what was boring."

"We made a vase then put a bunch of flowers in it," Ophelia intoned flatly, showily rearranging the throw pillows to make herself comfortable.

"Oh. Is that what Moira was holding?" Eleanor quizzed about the recently settled bouquet on one end table.

"Yea," Moira responded for the lounging sloth and shrugged, "She doesn't give up."

"It appears like a well-crafted vase which must've taken a lot of effort and time." Masterfully cognizant of her own daughter's goals, Eleanor laughed, "I am very jealous, pup. Where's mine?"

Ophelia bent on an elbow then held up her guilt-stricken façade, "I'm sorry mom. I'll make another one for you," then she reassured with a whisper, "A better one."

"I am only joking," Eleanor gracefully snorted, amused, "But you know Moira has a boyfriend. Why not try courting someone your age?"

"Or perhaps you should give in to that one boy courting you instead," Moira unconcernedly advised.

Ophelia sharply bolted upright at the comment and exclaimed, "I would rather fall into a spike infested trap than get intimate with a foul vermin like him! Do you know what boys grow into?" she thrust her palms skywards and carried the gravity of her distaste, shaking from the horror and protracting her pronunciation for emphasis, "They get very hairy armpits! That is disgust_iiiiing_!"

"Get intimate?" Eleanor couldn't stifle her laughter, placing a hand over her mouth from possible embarrassment, "My, my... It seems your choice of words get more advanced every single day, my little one." Gathering herself together after some seconds with a neatening of her clothing, she improved her posture then manifested sternly and compassionately, beholding Ophelia in a rivet, "Pup, your good father was a boy who grew into a man. And because of him, you were born. So without boys, there will be no you."

"I don't care. Girls are soft, tender, slender, and highly attractive! Boys are hairy, they are infinitely stupid, and they smell bad because they rarely take baths – if any!" Coincidentally, Ophelia's older brother had just gotten in the room and she tenaciously stuck an index in his direction, "Just take a look at Fergus! Did you see what happened to him?"

Fergus calmly marched in, handsome, muscular, tall, and with a developing soul patch, "What? What?" he had not paid attention to the chatter and became startled that she had created an example out of him. "What lil' sis? What's wrong with me?" he progressed toward their area and abruptly raised a sturdy hand as salutation in detection for his peer, "Hey Moira."

"Hey," Moira subtly batted her eyelashes, the feat seeming automatic whenever a notable male was in her vicinity; which had always been bewildering to Ophelia – confused if she was flirting or meaning to deceive.

"You're revolting," Ophelia spat with repulsion.

"I'm revolting?" Fergus queried, flabbergasted of her pure audacity.

"Yes! And you're a loser!" she added as she was urgently manhandled.

"I am not!" he barked angrily.

"Unhand me, smelly barbarian!" he had lifted her but she thrashed around hysterically and elbowed him on a rib before he could successfully give her a noogie.

"_Oww!_" he winced from pain but didn't quit his mission.

…Until their snickering mother eventually mandated, "Alright, alright. Stop, before Ophelia hurts you, Fergus."

"_Aww_, dear mother. Must you make me feel feebler than I already am?" Fergus complained and indignantly freed his sister.

"You are not feeble, my son. But your sister is rather competent," Eleanor appeased but chuckled when Ophelia stuck her tongue out and made a mocking noise then leisurely sat on her lap, "She'll hurt you."

Fergus eyed Moira skeptically like he was begging for her not to approve.

"She learns from the best rogue in Thedas, if you'll recall," she smirked.

"An unappreciative rogue," Ophelia dubbed accusingly – which rendered Moira's irises to skyrocket. "Mom, can we go now?" she looked at her mother and pleaded with a pout.

Eleanor paused her braiding of the blonde hair and teased with a semi-grin, "To your 'gallivanting' with Moira, as you say?"

"Yes, _motherrr~_"

"Gallivanting? And what would be next?" Fergus wandered by Moira and speculated, "Philandering?"

Moira could merely sigh, "_Sure_…"

"Not so fast, pup." Laying a hand on her daughter's side, she explained, "The reason I've called you here is because your father wants to see you."

Ophelia's eyes lit, "Father? Father's here?"

"Yes. He'll only be here for an hour more before he's off to Denerim." Eleanor couldn't resist and pinched a handful of her charming child's cheek. "Will you satisfy the wish of your father, dear?"

"Will Moira eat too?" Ophelia uttered somewhat incoherently, her mother still cheerfully pulling on her cheek.

"Of course." Eleanor permitted her daughter to smoothly swipe away her hand.

Ophelia hopped off her seat, straightened her spine, then spoke nobly, her chin angled superciliously, "Then yes. If we both will be summoned, I shall grant the beloved Teyrn his wish."

Eleanor chortled with glee then rose from her chair and maternally drew Ophelia to her chest, "Say that now, but call him father later. We wouldn't want to disrespect him."

[-]

"Sis." "Bro." "Why are you so mean to me today?" "Because I am." "What did I do this time?" "Be hairy." "Why do you treat me this way?" "No particular reason." "Okay, if I let you shave my facial hair, will you go back to being my cuddly little sister?" "Ew. I don't want to touch it. Have Oriana shave it…" "Alright. Then you'll stop being mean to me?" "I'll think about it."

Fergus' exasperated growl resounded twice against the narrowed walls and soaring ceilings before he persistently resumed to compromising with Ophelia.

For one stretch of the veering hallways, Moira and Eleanor listened to the two siblings bicker in front of them while they all headed toward the dining hall.

Deeming Fergus' scream to be the proper transition to another subject of interest, Eleanor initiated a conversation with the younger woman lagging several inches beside her, "Moira, enlighten me once more where you'll be taking my daughter."

Moira scrunched an eyebrow, a tad surprised of the query, "Just at the safe outskirts of Highever to spruce up her basics like every week, your _Excellency~_"

"You needn't add that exaggerated last bit. I can sense your sarcasm, young lady," Eleanor deadpanned, but the gleam of humor in her emerald eyes told otherwise.

"_Oh~_ Then please forgive me. I humbly submit not to do so _ever _again," Moira apologized with an even more obvious sarcastic voice that Eleanor found considerably funny inside.

"I trust you well enough in keeping my daughter from harm, Moira," the silver-haired noblewoman guaranteed with a faint smile then solemnly elucidated further, "But be aware of your great influence on Ophelia. One in particular that strikes me the most is her recent use of... Vulgar vocabulary. It would not bother me much if the word wasn't something overtly sexual and used in such a way that would imply she knew of the deed itself."

"What?" Moira substantially quickened to align with her, staring inquisitively, "Did she really…?"

"Yes," Eleanor clarified resolutely.

"I'm sorry. But I honestly wouldn't know where she would've picked it up unless..." Moira began with shame and doubt – but then she remembered why and claimed for certain, "She stalked me."

Eleanor exhaled profoundly, fairly disappointed, "Ophelia had always been sly. Though I am positive she sneaks out at night – we could never completely catch her in the act and have gradually ignored the possibility altogether. Stalking you wouldn't be too farfetched..."

"You're absolutely right. She does stalk me," Moira affirmed, glancing at Ophelia as she talked, "I would stop her if I could. Once, I was on the verge of strangling her from extreme irritation. Your daughter's obsessed with me and I can't explain why."

"Well, thank the Maker you haven't strangled my daughter to death," Eleanor quipped dryly then gave the teen a prying once-over, "And perhaps it's because… She has had a huge crush on you since that night at the pantry."

"That can't be the only explanation." Moira's head wavered backwards fleetingly from the absurdity, "_Uggh… _And I still couldn't believe she told you after our deal..."

Eleanor graced a benevolent hand on her shoulder and supported, "She's honest and manipulated it for your benefit in the end."

Moira couldn't restrain the upturning of the corners of her mouth as fond memories flushed over her, "I don't know what got ahold of me to say this but... As much as she is a little gnat, she is also loveable," she then earnestly grilled Eleanor, doubtful of her worthiness, "I just can't understand why she took a liking to me. I was incredibly mean to her. What must I do? Be nice?"

Eleanor squeezed her eyes for a moment and cherished the emergent adult's question because of the answer: "I think it is adorable when children find someone they crush on then cling to. They work harder and improve themselves – where the result is terribly endearing. Such is the case of my daughter – and she is difficult to discourage. Believe me, I've tried. But she's stubborn… Often for what she supposes to be good…" Astonished of Moira's speechlessness, she observed the scoundrel's softened countenance and divulged, "In any event, I might have a clue why she likes you..." Her green eyes traveled over the brunette's body, deliberately ogling her alluring face, her lithe curves, down to her formfitting leather pants and boots. "You're sexy…" she crooned with a morsel of a leer.

Brown-eyes fluttered fast from an open to a close for a split second before words finally came out of cherry lips. "_Errhm_... Pardon? I don't think my brain processed what you just said correctly, milady."

"And I quote my daughter… 'Moira is sexy,'" the older woman jauntily teased.

Moira puffed out a woozy breath, "_You_… Are something else... Teyrna Eleanor Cousland," she tittered and massaged her forehead, a sign of relief, "For a while there, I thought I had been sucked through a Veil and forever trapped…"

Eleanor hovered a hand over her stomach, "_Hahaha~_! Not here, child. Ophelia might have a chance with you, but as for me to you – I am too old for you."

"_Shame_…" Moira droned.

"Pup!"

A man's deep but devoted voice ransacked the halls and brought the two women's attention back to their destination – a magnificent elongated hall that was occupied by a widespread dining table, stylishly positioned on a great custom rug. Amongst other decorations, a gigantic chandelier ornamented with diamonds hung low from the painted oval and concaved ceiling, the cool vividness emanating from the windows supplementing its splendor.

Over a dozen seats were set accordingly with everything needed for fine dining, yet only one person was currently seated.

The man pivoted his throne by a degree and spread his arms to welcome his daughter against his chest. "_Puuuppp~_ You're growing bigger and bigger every day,_"_ he cooed, embracing Ophelia securely below his chin.

Ophelia steadily withdrew then addressed professionally, hands behind her back, "Greetings, father. I trust that your trip to Amaranthine was satisfactory?"

Bryce giggled, "Yes. Better than expected, my Ophelia. _Oh_, how I missed you so…" he grasped her tiny hands then scrutinized her with soulful eyes, "And I trust that you are behaving?"

She simpered but confirmed proudly, "Tame, like a trained pet mabari doing only what was taught and asked."

"That's my pumpkin." His cobalt eyes suddenly ignited a ravenous fire and bundled his reeling offspring into his arms, "COM'ERE!"

"Father! I'm too old for this!" Ophelia squirmed and strained to cover her face from the overwhelming number of pecks, "_GAAH! _YOU'RE SO SCRATCHY!"

"Tame? What a load of crap, if I've ever accidentally took a whiff of one nearby."

Ophelia would've retorted with a smartass remark but she was too grateful for the diversion.

Bryce ended the assault and nicely unconfined his darling captive. "Ah, I knew those biting yet darkly amusing words could only come from the beautiful lass our daughter's maddeningly in love with," he got on his feet and hospitably attended to their special guest, "Moira, it is good to see you are well."

Moira bowed midway, "Same to you, milord."

Glimpsing at his son and wife, he enunciated, "And, I've already said hello to these two."

"Yes, you have," Eleanor acquiesced.

On the other hand, Fergus jested, "We do appreciate your efforts, father."

"_Haha._Yes," Bryce patted him strongly on a shoulder although referred to himself, "This man is a gluttonous pig that needs feeding. Why don't we all sit?" he beckoned them to the table then delegated the servants to labor, "Begin bringing the food so we can eat."

[-]

"Okay, I'll do it right this time. Promise," Ophelia swore, reaching for an object her older friend held away from her.

"You won't 'mistakenly' aim higher, to obviously scare an animal that caught your attention, and get one of my precious daggers stuck, thus forcing me to strenuously climb the tree and retrieve it because you're a little brat and suddenly painfully take a full day to climb that stupid thing?" Moira's brows crunched irritably, hand jutted angrily towards an imposing tree.

"Yes! I WON'T! Now give me one, or I'm telling mom you brought me to a whorehouse!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"You know I would!" Ophelia challenged, on her tiptoes for full effect.

Moira sneered, "Fine! Do not make me regret this decision," then she handed one dagger, its blade clenched by her fingers, handle up.

"Thank you," Ophelia casually grabbed it with a small head bow then turned in the direction of an x marked tree. She inhaled sharply while she raised it in an angle to be flung, her complete focus pinned on the target. She exhaled then the dagger flew.

...It literally flew... ...Over the forest... ...Amongst the flock of frenzied birds... ...Into the sun's blinding glare... ...Faraway from sight...

A volcano erupted simultaneously, "WHY YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE–!"

The mischief whined incoherent noises as she was pinched by an ear and dragged shortly to be forcibly seated on a boulder.

A hand gripped at her shoulder, almost clawing, "Why do you keep doing this, Ophelia? What's gotten into you?"

"After this, you'll go back to your ugly boyfriend, won't you?" Ophelia accused then added a dismaying scowl. She sunk on her seat, beaten.

The gripping hand relaxed from perplexed worry, "What? Are you... Jealous?"

"Ever since he came around, you've been spending less time with me," she quivered slightly, head drooping lower and lower as her eyes burnt holes through her feet.

Moira slowly bent on one knee to meet heights then pulled Ophelia's black hood down, exposing the innocent face of the short haired blonde girl. She then cupped her tiny head and forcibly beheld her gaze. Her bronze irises softened, glazed with unconditional love for her troublesome friend. "Ophelia..." she trickled slender fingers on a lightly tan cheek, soothing, "You are my best friend. You know full well that I am too old for you and that I like… Boys…" Desperate to seize her consideration, she seized her hands and beseeched, "Please... Understand that it will never work between us. You're growing, Ophelia. Give up this childish dream. There are plenty of other girls out there. Many girls that will also catch your eye and you – their eye."

And yet, Ophelia remained silent – eyes lurking everywhere but Moira's.

"Stop sulking…" Moira inched even closer, "Talk to me." And her breath wafted…

Which compelled the youngster to speak mutedly, "You're leaving..."

"Leaving?" Moira repeated like she had no idea.

"Yes! Besides the fact that he hogs your precious time…" Ophelia sniffed as her eyes started to sting, "He's going to Orlais and taking you with him! I heard!" she emphasized, practically yelling unintentionally.

Moira clinched her biceps, "You heard wrong–––Stop!" she gruffly rebuked as the crystalline eyes streamed a tidal of tears, "Ophelia, I'm not leaving!"

"Yes you are!" Ophelia sobbed, her torso shuddering heavily, "You don't really…c-care about me! You just put up with me because…I'm rich and–––I'm a Teyrn's daughter! Y-you… Didn't even want my vase and roses!"

Moira's jaw fell in sight of her utter wretchedness, the regret it sent knifed through her gut and all the way through her heart. Not once in the past had she seen Ophelia cry like this – demanding something so definite from her. The little girl who was so selfless and so generous that she had never ever truly complained.

"Yes! I did! I'm sorry if I didn't show my appreciation. But I do genuinely care about you!" Moira rubbed her flushed cheeks with a tender thumb and swore with ardency, attempting to gently shake her out of her misery.

"Can't you…" Ophelia fought back against her hold, swallowing and respiring erratically before confessing, "…See? I don't want…anyone else because…you're the one I love!"

"Quit crying! You're not in love with me! You just have a huge infatuation and a wild ambition! I'm too old for you!" Moira dug her nails into her skin, enough to stress her point but not enough to wound.

Ophelia beat her fists into her thighs repetitively, tears soaking her pants as she screeched, "NOO! IT DOESN'T MATTER!"

"Don't shout! You'll attract something!" Moira endeavored to cover her mouth with her hand…

But the blushing wet lips swerved away from it. "I–––!"

And Moira hastily apprehended it – with her own lips.

Ophelia's powder blue eyes shot open, stunned by the sweet ambrosia imposed on her lips. Even as they detached and delicate pecans perused her like a toddler's first present – the fluttering in her stomach did not cease.

Just as the fantasy seemed over, Moira stooped with her mouth marginally agape and angled it against Ophelia's frozen but open lips. She lingered for a skipped heartbeat – exchanging tantalizing breaths – then the callow lips ripened and nibbled on her lower lip.

Moira nibbled back and tasted salt – then gained control and tasted honey, her tongue darting inside.

Ophelia trembled in the wake of the deepened kiss, dazedly reclining a miniscule centimeter backwards while she allowed the flood of reverie to carry her into transcendence.

Her hands clamped on the rough edges of the boulder she sat on – then flinched when the sensations along with the aroma of lavender and lily drifted away.

"There..." Moira inhaled a lungful of conclusive air, "Happy?"

For fear of losing the evanescent bliss, Ophelia didn't move a muscle and, instead, scavenged the saccharine fragments from their intimate contact, rooting the taste in her tongue and rewinding the kiss in her head over and over again.

"That was a pretty good kiss, for a first-time kisser. You can feel more confident wooing girls now. Brag about how your first kiss was with me. Or better yet, show them. _Hmm_?" Moira amiably encouraged, wiping Ophelia's cheeks then fixing her loose strands of hair, "And I'm not leaving. Okay?"

Ophelia's irises were helplessly adhered to hers, mesmerized.

But her gaping mouth gave the bleak impression that her gloominess persisted, so Moira curved her palms against her jawline and murmured, "Hey... Chin up. We can 'gallivant' some more if you like." Her tone had become surprisingly soft-spoken, nearly as soft as her mother's goodnight kiss. "Want to hunt some wolves?"

Ophelia perked up, "We can?"

"Yea. Sure," Moira determined.

"What about mom? She doesn't want me to…"

"She'll understand. You have managed better since then. You're growing." Having no response for a dozen seconds, she folded her arms and suspected, eyebrows asymmetrically askew, "What? Is that not enough?"

Ophelia stared at the ground indecisively, "_Uhm_… Actually..."

"Yea…?" Moira flickered her eyelids probingly, "What is it?"

Ophelia stuttered, fiddling with her cloak anxiously, "Can we…_uh_…kiss again?"

Moira snickered, "You're cute... But no. Don't push your luck," she reverted back to her usual uncompromising self and declined.

"But you said you enjoyed it," Ophelia suppliantly contended.

"That's not what I said," Moira bopped her lightheartedly on the forehead.

"I could tell it in your eyes, I think. Besides, show me a few tips. _Please?_" Ophelia leant forward, her eyes like that of a hurt puppy.

"You can read my eyes?" Moira quizzed sarcastically then scoffed, "No."

"_Pleeaassee?_" Lithe small feet jerked restlessly.

"No," she swathed the brat's rising hand away then stood.

"_PLEEEAAASSSEEE?_" Ophelia then kneeled down on the evergreen grass then begged, "I'll be your slave for a day!"

Piqued by the offer, Moira tested, "Oh? You'll do anything I ask you to?"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

Moira tapped her rosy lips, contemplating, "I've had a few things in mind…" _It was certainly a good opportunity for her… Humiliation. A fair payback for the numerous embarrassments she's caused her. _Persuaded, she established, "_Hmph_. Fine... You must've sucked out some of the good sense in me..." She instantaneously heaved the wide-eyed smirking twerp up and off the earth then sashayed around, stealing her place on the boulder then crossing her legs. "In truth, you don't need much instruction. You're a natural... It's a little horrifying…" she admitted with a docile sigh but then cautioned passively, "But don't get your hopes up. We still can't be this fantastic couple you're dreaming of."

Ophelia could sense the giddy feeling rushing back, proclaiming enthusiastically, "Are you joking? I want you more than ever now! But I'll wait until I'm around your age when you won't be able to resist my sexy mature body and charms."

"You're a crazy kid…" Moira chuckled, "But we'll see." Smiling, she promptly sat up straight, "Okay... I'll close my eyes. And you… Dominate the kiss this time," she enticed with a lip bite, "You ready?"

It was a lip bite that Ophelia distinguished as a tool she used to seduce men. It never affected her before, but since it was being used on her – she couldn't help but get weak in the knees.

[-]

Rabid barks and growls filled the midafternoon air, the cordial sun and wind not discontinuing the animosity that was rapidly brewing.

Panting, Ophelia frantically climbed an enormous jagged rock, kicking the wolves that strove to gnaw at her feet. Her gloved hands latched roughly into each available fissure and enabled her to ascend in no time, the plenty pebbles rolling down a mark of her feat.

Unbending a knee, she mounted the slanted formation then unsheathed her daggers and counted them like cards.

_One. Two. Three._

Then she counted the ferocious dogs beneath her.

_One. Two. Five._

Five that struggled to crawl in pursuit of her.

"Ophelia!" Moira shouted apprehensively from atop a distant crag, "Stay there!"

"It's okay!" Ophelia self-assuredly replied, attentively watching the first incoming enlarged pooch hop toward her.

The gray-furred beast leapt with a snarl and bare fangs – and with the correct timing and position, she ducked and slashed it diagonally on the face while simultaneously stabbing it halfway in the chest.

Toppling over her in a chance to sink its teeth on her flesh, the pooch whined as Ophelia had curled and solidly kicked it with two feet afterwards and it tumbled back to the bottom with several thuds.

The second wave soon pressed in and Ophelia frolicked with the two mutts it washed up, launching a cracked slab to the foremost wolf to stagger it then baiting her armored forearm to be clenched so she could serve a blade into its neck.

The wounded mongrel recoiled with a whimper then plummeted downwards with the rest of them, retreating and some limping as Moira approached sprinting.

"Look! They got scared of me!" Ophelia broadcasted with conceit, jumping for joy.

"You idiot!" Moira bellowed, her nose crinkled with disdain, "Don't you _ever_ do that again!"

"What? I'm okay! See?" Ophelia modeled her healthy limbs, stretching her body and swinging her cloak dramatically. When Moira halted at the base of the elevated landmark, the mini rogue expounded, "I did what you asked! Separate them. Hit them square on the chest, head, or neck. And I have all your daggers!" she flashed the three lengthy stilettos in one hand showily.

Moira berated with severity, projecting her voice and incriminating gestures toward the mischief, "No excuses! You could've potentially gotten yourself _KILLED_! I said to search for a lone wolf you can go toe-to-toe with!" She brandished one digit and emphasized it, "One wolf!" then she vigorously swiped the air horizontally, "NOT A PACK!"

"Okay! Okay!" Ophelia yielded, casting her head down and apologizing weakly, "I'm… Sorry… I won't do it again…"

"Come down here!" Moira irritably pointed at the ground, disclosing as Ophelia descended, "If darkspawn appear, it'll be your fault for making me angry."

A subdued voice mumbled, "Sorry…" Ophelia arrived immobile in front of Moira with her hood down and inner clothing concealed by her cloak.

"Be more mature, Ophelia. This isn't the Denerim market! Just think of the consequences if you had failed!" Moira glared at her, eyes sweltering.

"I said I'm sorry! I won't do it again, I promise!" Ophelia cried plaintively in rebuttal, balling her fists.

The dark head examined her punctiliously for some minutes, only the tweeting noise of the birds and the hushing sound of the wind audible to their ears. The blonde head's petite haircut flowed gently with the breeze and danced before her striking translucent blue eyes, even though they were half-lidded and plastered to the bristling trees in the expanse.

Fascinated, Moira was inwardly heart-warmed as she envisioned greatness in the young child's future. Ophelia was noble, smart, clever, versatile, skilled... She would undoubtedly go beyond her league and achieve outstanding things, making Moira cringe at the notion that she could be forgotten.

Spotting the rips on a left gauntlet, Moira demanded less-irascibly, "Let me see your arm."

Ophelia became startled for a second as Moira abruptly grasped her wrist and studied her forearm, its upper leather layer torn but its inner reinforced layer only dented and not split.

Subsequently, Moira bent and studied her face, clutching her jaw and turning it sideways, "You have a few scratches on your face," she tenderly grazed over the cuts with a finger then presumed, eyeing her concernedly, "And I reckon there are bruises on that arm and other parts of your body… Do you feel any pain at all?"

Ophelia swayed her head diminutively from side to side.

At some ease, Moira planted a palm on her shoulder, "Well… I guess… You did do exceptionally well fighting those mongrels." She paused to trade smiles with the youngster who slowly pivoted her head. "You have amazing speed and impeccable resourcefulness." Tightening her clasp, she professed, "I'm very proud."

"Thanks," In an instant, Ophelia's mien morphed from sour to sweet, "Do I get a kiss?" She beamed so intensely that it stung…

And infuriated. "No! Shut up! Stop asking! Don't take this lightly!" Moira spat, letting go of her with a minor push.

"I was just joking…" Ophelia bashfully itched at the nape of her neck.

Moira released a bottomless breath then wrapped a languid arm on her shoulders, "C'mon. You've already had quite the treat today. Let's get you home before dark."

[-]

Faintly bronzed fingers intertwined with fair-skinned ones, the connection confounding the brunette but only for a split-second.

Catching the Casanova's grin, Moira trundled her eyes, "_Whatever_," then threw her own grin back at the fledgling flirt.

For minutes, Ophelia and Moira strolled hand in hand across the serene meadow, the sun gradually depressing behind them. Ophelia was wholly fixated on the cinnamon-eyed beauty the entire duration and either reveled in the touch of her smooth fingers or reveled in the display of her untied and elegant wavy hair and beautiful aristocratic face.

_If only she was her age, she could be hers._

Eventually, the skies developed a gradient of indigo and orange, flocks of birds apparently soaring opposite their route.

Ophelia inclined against Moira's side, leaning her hooded head partially on her shoulder and snaking an innocent arm around her waist.

Moira perceived the action as the juvenile's slight fright for thunderstorms and permitted it, draping an arm on her side as well.

Finally emerging to one of the main forks in the road, they slackened their pace as four obscure men surfaced from the shadows in front of them.

Alarmed, Moira stepped forward and protectively scooted Ophelia to her back.

Shockingly, the first man was at their face in under a couple of seconds and courteously greeted, "Hey Moira…" he adjusted his belt then grinned, "Fancy bumping into you here." His tone was neither sinister nor intimidating – though everything about the situation was.

"Who are you?" Ophelia peered then blurted out and was consequently held firmer for silence.

Moira questioned, seemingly familiar with them, "What is it that you want?"

He scrubbed his immature beard and pondered, "Not much. Just maybe…" then he indolently pointed at Moira, "You."

Ophelia immediately protested, "What? You can't have her!"

Moira burrowed her fingernails into her wrist and reprimanded, "Stop." Compelling her student, she regarded the man once again, her countenance stiff, "You anticipated my arrival, didn't you?"

"A funny bird told that you would be passing through here, yes," he divulged simply.

Moira sealed her eyes, her forehead creasing as she huffed an indignant breath.

_Betrayal._

Then with improved resolve she established, her words adamant, "I'll come with you peacefully, but let me bring the child home safely. She was not involved in any of our operations."

Ophelia virtually vaulted through her for her defense, "No!"

Then Moira briskly pulled her back, "I'll be fine!"

The man chuckled deeply, a contemplative hand on his chin, "About that child…" He pinched his lower lip before quirking a bristly brow, "She's a Cousland, isn't she?"

Moira lied resolutely, "No. She isn't."

"We can't have the daughter of a Teyrn running to his daddy and crying about her friend missing, can we?" he blithely quizzed his companions behind him and they sniggered in reply.

"She's not a Cousland!" Moira contested, desperately endeavoring to negotiate, "I said I will come with you peacefully, but let her go!"

Ophelia tugged at her elbow, "Moira, it's okay," then she advanced a foot toward them and commanded, "If you're taking her, you'll have to take me too!"

In a pop of one nerve, Moira clawed at her forearm and forcibly rebuked, "Be quiet! You don't know what you speak of!"

"This is better! At least we'll be together!" Ophelia urgently appealed.

Moira's piercing look diminished and her clasp loosened as she succumbed to her proposition.

_At least they'll be together._

"Wise choice, kid," their leader bobbed his head approvingly then delegated his men, "Search them for weapons."

Two subordinates progressed onwards and eyeballed them accordingly. Surrendering, Moira took liberty to withdraw her daggers bit by bit and submitted it to one thug.

At the same time, Ophelia, however, challenged the goon assigned to her, "You'll have to lift my cloak to check for weapons. I'm not lifting it."

Amused, he cackled along with his gang. "_Aiight_, kid." He went down on one knee and taunted her, "You think you're so tough, huh?" He rudely thrust a hand on her stomach, almost punching, then opened her cloak, "I have nothing to fear from you, twerp."

"Wrong. That's not a pocket," Ophelia corrected as the bald guy scanned her complicated greaves.

"Shut up," he derided as he tilted his head inwards for a better viewpoint.

Before dispensing her last dagger, Moira gulped invisibly as she figured what her apprentice was doing.

"Here!" Under a split-second, Ophelia impaled a miniscule dagger into the soft flesh in between her searcher's jaw and neck – the result: his gagging, a stumped gang, and Moira's relinquishing of a pocket of dust.

Straightaway, the small burst of powder engulfed the air and choked the people that didn't hold their breaths. But Ophelia and Moira did, so they dashed out of their presence with Ophelia guiding the way.

"GET THEM!" The livid screech boomed across the fields.

The duo hustled, not talking, not trading glances – just propelling their legs and feet as quickly as they could with only their panting to ensure them that the other was nearby.

They were within the shelter of a tree-infested jungle when Moira yelled despairingly, "Ophelia!"

There was the fleeting sound of air splitting then she toppled over Ophelia and they landed together in a clinch over crimson and gold foliage.

Perplexed, Ophelia twisted from under her and gasped despondently, the tears already materializing on her eyes, "_Moira…?_"

The teenager disregarded the arrow on her back and assessed Ophelia's condition instead, "Run… Your mom's waiting for you…" she bestowed upon her a sad smile.

Ophelia couldn't fathom what just happened and quivered while she said, "_Moira…_ I-I can't…"

"_JUST GO!_" Moira strained to bellow, rousing Ophelia to stand.

She faltered for another second, gawping at Moira's prone form, then the incoming enemies came into her vision and she ran, crying.

Zigzagging past plants and trees, she could solely worry about Moira and not her destination.

_She shouldn't have tried to escape…_

_She shouldn't have tried to escape…_

_She shouldn't have tried to escape…_

"_Mha!_" she almost skidded and inhaled harshly, finding herself at a standstill on the edge of a cliff. The view of temple rubbles below terrified her and her heart pounded hysterically, its beating the only thing she could hear.

"Nowhere to run, little brat?"

She panicked at the voice, veering to her left and right erratically.

Twenty feet from her was the foremost man, tapering his eyes and drawing his bow and arrow. "We underestimated you… I can't believe you just killed one of my brothers. And for that… I should shoot you in the head and spatter your brains out right now, you bothersome brat!" he increasingly sneered, "But fortunately for you – you are still useful for ransom! Make one small move and this arrow will be your demise!" he tarried for a while, expecting for his associates to come around.

"MOIRA!" Ophelia shrieked as the rest of his group dragged her then dropped her on the floor.

"NO!" struggling to uphold her upper body, Moira beseeched, "PLEASE! DON'T HURT HER!"

Their leader nodded definitively, "Take her."

"Ophelia, please listen to them…" Moira instructed, her face wet with grime and tears, "Don't move…"

Ophelia reeled backwards as they marched forward, stones stirred by her boots plunging downwards off the precipice. The shortest man moved to grapple her…

_I can't give it…_

That was when she flung her lone dagger and struck their boss on the gut. But he released the arrow and it struck her on the chest.

_Up._

Time slowed near to a stop as she plunged below, the purity of the empty darkening blue sky the last entity to be seen.

[-]

First, the sound…

A volley of restful pitter-pattering.

And, the touch…

A torrent of tranquilizing tears.

Then, the sight…

A blur of speckled fragments – some shining, some sinking, and all dithering.

_Give it up…_

In one ragged breath – agony speared through the spine and a mewl echoed through the forest. Instinctively, the back was mistakenly arched and delivered more of the excruciation. Fingers grinded into gravel as the screams persevered – the frailest of movements grating the insides and producing unbelievable pain.

Then with a grit of shivering teeth came a collapse from exhaustion and suppression of the abominable feeling – ignoring it to concentrate.

On the moonlit night…

Of a cloudless clime…

And a starry sky…

Until a barren-eyed animal with horns woven like lightning monopolized the scene.

Cocked its silver-furred head.

And spoke.

"_Oh, look…"_

_..._

_..._

"_You're still alive."_

_..._

_..._

_..._

"_But barely."_

_..._

_I can't give it up._

_..._

"_Hours had already passed."_

_..._

"_And yet…"_

_..._

_..._

_..._

"_You live."_

_..._

_..._

"_Your fortitude is admirable."_

_..._

_Give it up…_

_..._

"_Ah, your friend…"_

_..._

"_You want to save her?"_

_..._

_..._

"_I can help you."_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_I can't give it up._

_..._

"_And why not?"_

_..._

"_For one so talented…"_

_..._

_..._

_..._

"_A waste."_

_..._

_Give it up…_

_..._

"_What about your mother?"_

"_Your brother?"_

_..._

_..._

"_And your father?"_

_..._

_..._

_I can't give it up._

_..._

"_You, child, are one of a kind."_

_..._

_Give it up…_

_..._

"_Surely, they will be dreadfully distraught of your death."_

_..._

_..._

"_Will you give this up and give them a lifetime of grief?"_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_I can't give it up._

_..._

"_With me, you can save your friend and return home safely to your family."_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

"_So…"_

_..._

"_Let me help you."_

_..._

_I can't give it up,  
>To someone else's touch,<br>Because I care too much._

_I care too much._

…_Care too much…_

_..._

_..._

_..._

"_Be still, child."_

_..._

"_The pain is but one mere stage."_

_..._

"_Survive this suffering."_

_..._

_..._

_..._

"_And transcend yourself."_

_I can't give it up._

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Infinity" by The XX (Flufftronix Remix)

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for Eyes on Fire<strong>

**Lord Tubbington**: I only read when I have to and only read when it's a fanfic and continuation of something I like. XD Do you like the song for this one? It's also my favorite. The pain won't be completely gone but it'll be somewhat mended in the following chapter. :D

**Dalish Elf**: This chapter sort of explains why she dealt with a demon. Tell me if she chose the right decision. ;D

**Sarion**: I don't know if this has been done before, but the idea struck me from watching Claymore (an anime.) I agree. Guys that are too straightforward about sex is just a turn off for me. But Zevran's witty and I can distinguish that most of it's lighthearted, so I like him. And I see... Perhaps I will change the part where I said he was almost dying. But seriously, they can't die yet? Even from shock or whatever? xD Anyway, thanks for info. You're awesome!

**whiskered oranges**: Nice that you have this song. :D I have the original too. Glad to hear you were intrigued and shocked! Did this one intrigue and shock you? :D

**LunarOphelia13**: Ehehe. And the twists don't stop. Mind you, the demon thing was totally inspired by Claymore. For some reason, I like the idea that she'll only go crazy if she utilizes the demon side of her or is incredibly depressed over something.

**Bonobo**: Thank you for saying my story made your day! You guys make mine whenever you review something nice! :D I think this is satisfactory too for you, no? XD

**Guest 3.5**: Well... The terribly drama shattering capslock of rage differentiates "this" from "THIS." I don't think I overused it. So are you asking me not to use it? Sorry to disappoint. Anyway, thanks for reading. :P

**Moral Attention**: Are you even more hooked now? XDD There is a chance. You'll have to read further to see what kind of chance, exactly. There is a glimmer of hope. This is their story, anyway. ;D

**AD Lewis**: Yes, you may pity Ophelia. I pity them both. Lol. Thanks for keeping on coming back! I'm glad you stick around. :D

**Becca**: Great! Are you a newcomer, by any chance? :D

**BecksLynn**: Ohohoho. I wanted this crap to be intense so that there would be a very profound meaning behind my couple's love for each other. And thank you! I love love LOVE LOVE reviews, so come back. XD S2

Thanks for the compliments and reviewing everyone! Review again please.

* * *

><p>AN: I seriously felt like I was going to die writing this chapter... Because I felt incredibly dizzy writing the last parts. Dx Lack of sleep... I think.

OMG. I'll edit sometime...

Oh, and feel free to ask questions. That's why we have feedback.:D

Please check my artwork, you won't regret it if you love this fic. I recently posted a comic-esque art and an animated gif.

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

\


	18. Chapter 18 The Lightning Strike

\

_Minor Edit: April 8th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 18 - <strong>The Lightning Strike<strong>

* * *

><p><em>What if this storm ends?<br>And I don't see you,  
>As you are now,<br>Ever again._

[-]

Squeaky door hinges creaked then six downcast heads pivoted to discern the cause – Eamon, Wynne, and Alistair had steadily entered the designated waiting room, their faces stiff with tense.

Zevran listened to the saddened mutt whine and introduce its concern before he introduced his with the same amount of unease in a low voice, "How are they?" He was seated securely on a couch next to Leliana who had just woken up and hauled her head up from his side, rubbing her reddened eyes and seemingly trying to remove the lines of dried tears on her cheeks.

As the primary healer, Wynne had anticipated the question and took liberty in answering, "Morrigan will be fine. Though she had lost a substantial amount of blood and was temporarily asphyxiated – with ample amount of rest, she should awaken." She wiped an imaginary bead of sweat on her forehead then continued, her tone compassionate like usual but burdened by fatigue, "Ophelia… Will be fine as well. The wounds we had inflicted to apprehend her are recovering already." Reminded of her patient's traumatic mental status, she paused with a heavy breath. "As for her other condition…."

Sensing hesitance from the way she fiddled with her own fingers, Eamon bravely explained, "We sedated her and kept her in a dungeon. She should remain there until First Enchanter Irving arrives and finds a solution that is best."

"You kept her in a dungeon?" Leliana had bolted upright and probed abruptly, her drowsiness dissipating immediately from shock.

"Yes," he replied frankly. But with the red head eyeing him like a bear protective of its cub, Eamon was apt to reassure, "Don't fret, she's not going to be hurt and the chamber she's in is far from horrid or horrific – it is properly windowed and cleaned thoroughly. She rests on a bed but her wrists and ankles are chained to a wall… To ensure everyone's safety."

Leliana's eyes fluttered and her lips grinded against each other into a tight line before she admitted despondently, "So she's truly mad, isn't she?" She tore her gaze off of the elderly man and threw it to the floor. "Caging her and chaining her to a wall like some rabid mabari…"

"I'm sorry, Leliana…" Alistair just found himself consoling her, a hand settling snugly on her shoulder, "Even I couldn't believe she could become… _That._ But Arl Eamon, Wynne, and I all agreed on this. We can't allow for anyone else to get hurt."

His gesture wasn't all that soothing for her. In fact, she developed into a drenched and shuddering murmurer, gripping her armor's skirt as she sobbed, "I cannot get myself to believe what had happened… What she had become… I just can't…"

Empathizing for his friend, Zevran wrapped an arm around her and stroked her side caringly. Being the closest ones to Ophelia, he deemed it in his initiative to be strong for Leliana and protect her from the illness that must be taken seriously. "It made sense… Back in the Brecilian forest," he began cautiously, his intent to unveil the reality to her gently with a truthful testimonial, "There was a sinister air about her... Similar to the foreboding feeling which emanated from the walls of the haunted abandoned orphanage we visited – only more frightening."

"She is, indeed, more dangerous than we had imagined," Eamon added arbitrarily, not necessarily aimed to thwart the bard – who rose up and challenged him with a teary yet formidable countenance.

"But we cannot condemn her so easily! She's a good person! She puts everyone else above her personal needs – making sure every person in a village, city, or camp had been helped even when she's extremely drained or depressed! She had done so much for Ferelden!" Leliana berated but also pleaded, the intense fire in her sapphire orbs completely reducing the assertive arl into a wordless gawk.

Wynne placed herself as much as she could manage in between them two. "Leliana, please, calm yourself. We are not condemning her," she requested kindly, cupping a damp cheek.

But once again, it was to no avail. Every effort they exerted to appease her only appeared to worsen her.

"I know she hurt Morrigan! I know she's not well!" Leliana shook her head, disappointed in herself for her uncontrollable and irrational behavior. "But I just... I can't understand why… I just want to _help_ her."

"The best you can do for now is pray to the Maker," Wynne stepped forward and embraced her, whispering by her ear as her hand traveled up and down her back thoughtfully, "My dear, I am aware that your love for her overwhelms your fear. But understand that she's not herself. She could hurt you if the whim arouses."

Sniffing her sobs in, she leaned lightly against her and mumbled quite composedly, "If Irving supposed that killing her was the only solution, would you approve of such lengths?"

"No," Wynne pulled a few inches away, clutched her head, and guaranteed with resolute eyes, "_Never_."

Zevran scoffed half-heartedly then proclaimed, somewhat amused, "That is a ridiculous question…"

"Aye," Oghren surprisingly spoke up in another side of the room, lifting the mood up a bit and rousing Nutella to bark favorably as he did. Not totally startling for the assembly, Sten and Shale had also included their soulful stares of agreement.

"It won't come to that," Alistair stood from behind Leliana and waited for her to take a peek of him before affirming, a small smile gracing his lips, "You have my word."

Heartened to an extent, Leliana plucked the prickle that had been bothering her for hours and beseeched, "Will I be allowed to see her? Even for a short moment."

The question was undoubtedly for Alistair. However, still dependent of his uncle's wisdom, he looked at the bearded man expectantly.

"I normally would advise against it _but_…" Eamon contemplated a touch timidly, a little anxious of accidentally saying the wrong words, "If you must placate your distress, be very careful around her. She's firmly restrained but her chains stretch an adequate distance and can injure you if you permit it. I suggest going sooner than later, to prevent meeting her at a time where she could awaken."

Leliana accepted his terms and only nodded quietly in response, inwardly relieved with his decision.

"Does anybody else absolutely _need_ to see her?" Alistair asked ambiguously, though secretly directing it at the attentive elf that remained sitting.

A few seconds of deliberation passed before Zevran slowly got on his feet. "I will go with Leliana."

[-]

_The perfect halo,  
>Of gold hair and lightning,<br>Sets you off against,  
>The planet's last dance.<em>

[-]

The duo of rogues ambled apprehensively behind a soundless guard that led them through a hidden door and hidden corridor. They were tightly side by side as they injected through the narrow brick walls; the dark and gloomy setting fairly familiar to the halls which steered them to Howe.

It wasn't anything new – they were aware that in every politician's house was the huge possibility of a concealed prison of some sort. And yet they cringed. Not at that fact but because of the gradually sinking feeling of danger in their minds.

Despite their increasing fright, they pressed forward and reached the core of the confinement – a standard jailhouse with numerous cells of varied sizes and vacancy, some lit by torches and the majority messy.

Bit by bit farther, the air became less stagnant and the stone floor gained natural illumination. Recognizing why it was brighter wasn't much of a feat – straight ahead behind a jailor and his table was Ophelia's larger cell with barred windows on one side.

"Ophelia…" Leliana muttered faintly as she discovered Ophelia asleep on a single mattress on the ground and by a wall. She was face down with her unkempt blonde hair sprawled over her face, the disorderly position in itself a subtle sign of her final struggle. Probably for lack of effort and risk to dress her without the shackles, they had left her half-naked, a bra and old bandages her mere upper body covering.

The unsociable guards exchanged routine dialog then the holder of the keys unlocked the weighty gate then bobbed his head once to signal for Leliana and Zevran to go in.

Leliana planted the first step forward then Zevran shadowed her toward Ophelia.

The surroundings were certainly clean for a jail cell, but squatting down adjacent to the bed made Leliana notice the irremovable blood stains beneath her feet that had accumulated over time. The room was definitely more than just a penitentiary.

Coming to her left, Zevran mirrored her movement then together they observed the sleeping woman's back rise and fall with every breath for a minute or two, stripes of warm orange fluctuating on her body as she did.

"It is a marvel how she had kept her skin so flawless through all that fighting, isn't it?" Zevran quizzed earnestly, transfixed on Ophelia's already cured wounds and generally blemish-less physique.

Delighted at the simple reminder, Leliana hummed a heartfelt _mmhmm_ then extended a hand to expose their Warden's serene visage.

"Be wary…" he warned. Though, he couldn't tell if she heard – her azure eyes too lost in the motionless face's cryptic contours, strong jawline, and pouty lips.

Not so much later in her fascination, Leliana's fingers entwined in the entangled yet silky tendrils as she ruminated, "You still love her..." she complained , "You never could get over her, could you?" then she leisurely ran her fingers through the flaxen tresses.

Why else would Ophelia blatantly attack Morrigan and nearly strangle her to death?

In a grim sense, it was because of love. Her profound and unrequited affection for the mage had driven her to madness, hurting the one she truly loved.

Zevran could neither comment outwardly with his voice nor opinionate inwardly in his mind as Leliana drew a rosewood ring from her pocket and inspected it momentarily.

_"When the time is right, give this back to her."_

"This belonged to you…" she decisively swallowed first and inserted it on Ophelia's right ring finger with determination. Then in swift conclusion, she pushed herself up, gave one lasting precious glance, then beckoned Zevran who gawped at her inquisitively. "I have done what I came here to do. We can leave."

Zevran blinked at her for a second, staggered that she was already prepared to move on.

[-]

_Just for a minute,  
>The silver forked sky,<br>Lit you up like a star,  
>That I will follow.<em>

[-]

Clouded black sky cracked with unruly streaks of white like fragile porcelain, but only for a hundredth of a second. The crashing and menacing boom that was carried with it, however, lasted for a couple of dreadful seconds longer. And below the breaking and pouring ceiling was a clutter of frantic trees, scrambling against the rushing wind.

"Ophelia!"

A woman's voice seeped through the indomitable noise.

"Ophelia!"

It was huffed out, desperation overcoming exhaustion.

Countless times, the woman called for the mentioned – once, hiking up a hill; twice, tumbling down for an accidental trip; thrice, heaving herself back to a sprint.

What she chased, she wasn't even certain. Sometimes it was the child she sought for, but strangely giggling as if it was cognizant of being pursued and enjoying it. Other times it was a silhouette, bizarrely dashing through the woods and merging with the darkness.

Panting, she acquired a tad of respite upon getting to a remote petty village, her hands clamped on her knees as she strove to catch her breath. Her eyes, on the other hand, perused for Ophelia's whereabouts, striving to catch sight of her within the dozen of houses in slumber.

Then, almost as boisterous as the thunder's roar, one house exploded and propelled a man unto the mud outside. An intense conflagration soon brewed afterward, engulfing the whole house in flames. And like a trusted associate of the disaster, the volley of rain turned to a frail drizzle, authorizing hell to spread.

The woman searched hectically through the mess, blocking out the pained screams that erupted to focus on her pursuit. She skimmed through house after house in hopes of uncovering Ophelia, a hand hovering by her nose and mouth to stifle her coughs and fan the smoke away from her inhalation. When the temptation to panic about the possibility of being trapped aroused, she recalled why she was there in the first place and determinedly zipped through the raging heat.

Then, inside the sixth house, the wailing commotion was fresher and louder – at odds with the lesser burning that welcomed her. Subsequently, following trails of crimson, she was greeted by earsplitting shrieks of agony which garnished the scene that unfolded before her – Ophelia towering over a heap of mangled bodies and mutilated limbs, cutting and stabbing away at the men and women like silly playthings.

They cried and whimpered for help or death but the woman could just drone, "_Ophelia_…"

_Thud!_

A man roughly bumped her as he charged onwards with a mighty war cry and a great sword in his hands.

_ZIIING–––!_

In a flash, he was amputated from the knee and below, his body collapsing faster than his detached legs.

Ophelia said nothing as she moseyed over the feebly squirming piles of carnage then gripped the man's arm and effortlessly dragged him, adding him to the blood fest.

The woman's body became iced in terror as she gawped at Ophelia's macabre orchestra. In spite of the stirring in her stomach that threatened to ascend, she watched everything.

She watched while Ophelia wielded another blade her height, brought it together with the other in front of her, and started thrusting downwards repetitively like she was churning butter. She watched while Ophelia grew bored and relocated to another stack, improved her composition, and swung her weapons like a standing clock's pendulum smoothly swaying back and forth. And she watched while Ophelia's young face became sprayed, blotched, and then coated with blood.

Ophelia eventually approached the bodies by her and the woman snapped back to life.

"Ophelia!" she yelled, yearning for the girl's attention who resumed her craft. "OPHELIA!" she advanced on her with reclaimed courage and grabbed her on one arm – but it got slapped to the side. "_OPHELIA!_" she used all the air in her lungs. "DAMN IT! _IT'S ME!_" she kneeled and forcibly embraced her upfront, her face merging with Ophelia's chest and ignoring the stench and filth of blood that arrested her nose and skin.

_Now it's found us,  
>Like I have found you,<br>I don't want to run,  
>Just overwhelm me.<em>

The second their frames collided and metals clunked, the child became completely immobile.

The woman clung to her like eternity to time. Breath seized with eyes closed, exploring the thumping ambiance which caressed.

"_Moira?_" Ophelia blurted out flatly, gazing far into the now searing blaze.

The woman didn't answer but revealed, "She's dead. She has long been dead. There is no saving her… Stop dwelling in the past to fix something you cannot." She begged, "Come back. We need you." And begged, "_I need you_…" And delved her face in, "_Please_…"

"_Mo…rrigan…_"

[-]

_What if this storm ends?  
>And leaves us nothing,<br>Except a memory,  
>A distant echo.<em>

[-]

A day had gone by since the night Ophelia was detained and a morning and an afternoon since Leliana had visited her.

The red head circled for hours around the wine cellar connected to the dungeon, desiring to be within earshot if anything occurred. And to pass time, she cleaned the entire room: sweeping and mopping the smudged floor, dusting and organizing the vast wine collection, and polishing the cabinets, shelves, and tables.

During her toil, a few servants offered to lend a hand when they couldn't discourage her from doing their job but she refused, insisting she wouldn't have something to do if they finished quickly. Zevran and Wynne pestered her too, worried that she didn't get enough rest. But she declined their propositions as well and they surrendered to her stubbornness by leaving peacefully.

She was on her knees, scouring the farthest corner of the lowest level of a shelf with an overused rag – locks of hair adhering to her perspiring forehead – when she perceived very dull knocking coming from the walls. Perplexed, she scooted out of the furniture and gaped at the secreted entrance some feet from her then pondered for five seconds.

The sound persisted.

Sweat dripped off of her face as she darted to an inconspicuous slab of stone and stomped a foot on it, the pedestal triggering a masquerading wall to shift and raucously expose the passageway to Ophelia.

Leliana hustled in while one unharmed guard then hustled out, his terrified expression instantly furthering her anxiety. She barked a 'what happened' but he tugged on her wrist, told her not to check, and tugged again to contend that they should call for help. She hissed 'no,' snatched her hand back, and raced towards the obscurity.

As she zoomed through the slowly diminishing dimness, the dull knocking burst into hoarse hammering. A waft of coldness somehow grazed her after every blow, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin.

Nearing the cell, Leliana distinguished through the gate that three guards were laid unconscious on the surface neighboring the bed – but she couldn't see Ophelia past the thick walls.

Finally arriving, she gasped, though not wholly grasping, "Ophelia?"

_A wall painted in red more than a squashed cochineal._

"_OPHELIA?!"_ her voice intensified, body jerking from tremulous fear, "NOO! STOP!"

She plunged forward to lock Ophelia in a cinch from behind, exhausting all her strength to hold her head away from delivering tremors to the walls. Her pleas of 'no' and 'stop' came out in ragged sobs as the hysteric Warden thrashed against her for release. When she didn't grant it, Ophelia twisted at her torso and shoved her violently, propelling the faultless mien to grate the floor.

"Leliana!" Zevran rushed in with Sten and they immediately hauled her to a safer site.

"Ophelia…" Leliana christened weakly, her head supported by the elf. Her vision was scattered with specks – she was fatigued.

Sten endeavored to contain Ophelia with a strained grapple to her waist – but she roared recklessly, chains whipping in a whirlwind.

"WYNNE! FAST!" Zevran bellowed as Sten groaned – he was bit on an unarmed arm and noticeably bled but didn't let go. "WYNNE!"

The incoming footsteps clamored continuously even after Wynne glided to a stop and bound Ophelia in a white ward, ethereal light raising and evaporating around her as her body uncontrollably straightened and Sten fell on his back.

"What happened?!" Alistair had hurriedly halted by Wynne, "Ophelia's––?" his breath got snuffed out of him once he had skimmed the situation.

"She's… Resisting…" Wynne grumbled through partly gritted teeth, outstretched hands already quivering, "I can't restrain her for much longer…" The fragile telekinetic barrier she built began to wane while Ophelia faintly convulsed.

"By the Maker…" Alistair dissected the gruesome incident in bewilderment with everyone else, "Was she trying to kill herself…?"

Fraught, Leliana dislodged from Zevran and planned to crawl toward the pooling rubicund puddle until the Antivan ceased her effort. "Ophelia…" she protracted, "_Whyyy…?_"

_I want pinned down,  
>I want unsettled,<br>Rattle cage after cage,  
>Until my blood boils.<em>

"I… Must…" Ophelia spat with blood out. Her head was drenched with blood which flooded her gaping mouth – her eyes the sole contrast against all the carmine. "Die…" Her chin was tilted high and her irises were cohered to the ceiling, uncontrollably dithering. "I can't be trusted…" she described with evident ache, either because of the flap of skin hanging and displaying a side of her skull or because of her severe remorse. "And I _hurt_ Morrigan…"

"You're… _Yourself?_" Leliana whispered with utter reverence, tears trickling instantaneously like the irrepressible pour of a wrecked dam.

The beams of light crackled and Ophelia bent one arm.

Alistair flinched, "It's deteriorating!" he exclaimed, "GUARDS!"

Two guards diffidently prepared to wrestle her from each side then Wynne grunted and the barrier faded.

The next little movements were in under a second. One guard attempted the first grab, but Ophelia angled a linear arm, hooked the man's neck with the extended chains, then withdrew her arm, twirled, and had him in a chokehold.

Except for the soldier that writhed against her, everyone in the chamber froze, appalled as Ophelia then mumbled, "Please kill me while you can. _It's all I ask…_" Her last words were conveyed like a fleeting peck on the lips, sweet but bitter in essence of parting.

"_No_, you _can't_ give up!" Leliana wept, eyes turning bloodshot once again.

"_Please_…"

Their beloved leader suffered so much in front of them that it tore them apart inside. They were in a battle against the easier choice to end her life with her consent and the more difficult choice to imprison her and endanger themselves whilst hunting for a solution.

Discerning that he could be the only one who could do it – what with their hopeless grimaces – Sten took initiative and touched the hilt of his claymore. He was ready to unsheathe it and test if they would allow it when the screech of the gate erased all thoughts of considering.

"Ophelia," Morrigan unexpectedly emerged from the shadows, inclining heavily against the gate. She was incredibly pale and enervated, head drooping with eyelids half-closed.

The mentioned inexplicably freed her hostage at the witch's presence. "_Morrigan…?_"

Dainty feet salvaged their vitality and scurried forward, cutting through the span like a knife. "I'm so sorry…" The whole world lifted as the dark head crashed into her and declared, "_Please_ _forgive me_..."

Ophelia bucked at the knees and her nose sunk into the hollow of her collarbone. "I…I should be the one–––"

"I felt you… And I know you felt me…" Morrigan muffled against her forehead, "Feel me again now… _Feel me_…" But her words were crystal clear to Ophelia. It was unquestionable with the shivers she induced on the taller woman. "_Live_…" She melted her with her voice.

Diamond irises shot wide open like a bolt of lightning struck tinder, reviving the perishing fire in her heart and sending her to a twinkling in the past…

…_How she had wallowed in the flow of raindrops that were passed unto her before she had said..._

"_But with you…"_

"_Strangely…"_

"_I feel transcendent."_

"_Even when you're angry..."_

"_Just so long as you're near."_

Morrigan cradled the blonde head as it gradually sunk deeper into her chest – then clinched the tan waist tighter as they gradually sunk with their knees to the floor. "Live…" she repeated against the culmination of the bloodied hair, "Live… Even just for as long as I can keep you free from your derangement…"

_I want to see you,  
>As you are now,<br>Every single day,  
>That I am living.<em>

Out of lightly panting lips came an unrepressed and fraught sob. Brimming with tears, Ophelia dug her tense fingers into Morrigan's velvety back and shuddered, burrowing her face into her chest and weeping more than she ever could as a child.

"_Live…_" It was mellifluous.

As distraught as her uncontrolled gasps filled the dungeon – she partly reveled in being held, the silent murmur of three understated words seemingly resonating in the distance.

[-]

_Painted in flames,  
>All peeling thunder,<br>Be the lightning in me,  
>That strikes relentless.<em>

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><p><strong>Song<strong>

"The Lightning Strike" by Snow Patrol

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><p><strong>Feedback for Infinity<strong>

**mylovelyminion**: Why thank you! I'm so glad to hear from you again! :D

**geler7**: Yay! You're here too! That's awesome. You flatter me so much, thank you! S2S2 And ooo... A certain someone. Good for you, I'm jealous. :D And hehe... Don't be shy about professing your love for this fic. It would be great if you told your friends about it too. ;D Haha. Jk. You don't have to do that. But that would be going the extra mile that I would so totally appreciate! XD

**AD Lewis**: Haha. Well, that's exactly what I'd like my readers to feel like when reading my stories... In the moment. Lol. SO YOU GAVE ME A GREAT COMPLIMENT BY SAYING THAT. THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

**ZAckrael**: Ongz. You reviewed! Much appreciated. S2S2S2

**whiskered oranges**: Yup. Offense is the best defense. Especially if you're made of paper. Hahaha. And it's faster too. Wow. I haven't heard the word spiffy in a while. I miss it. Lol. I like making everyone in Ophelia's family more fun and clever without them being out of character.

**Dalish Elf**: Yea... For like... Seven or eight chapters, it's been pretty intense. I'm getting quite tired of being all angsty when I write. I'll have to do another lemon soon or I'll have to kill myself from all the drama. XDD Thanks for rating! Finally I got a 5 from you again! Haha.

**Moral Attention**: Yup. It's Moira's fault that Ophelia's so darn promiscuous now. Haha. Anyway, you waited and now you saw. Does the past chapter make sense now? Read my A/N, I'll explain more. xP

**Lord Tubbington**: Yea... I don't like reading. Mainly because most of the time, it doesn't keep my interest. Even authors that write good but write too much about opening a door then walking somewhere then etc. I applaud their ability to write eloquently... But it's too darn too much for me! Most times... I skip like 90% of a book that's assigned to me, reading only the start and the end then going to sparknotes. Lmao. Thanks for the compliment. I get lucky at times and find music I absolutely like. But I can also use suggestions, if you have any. ;D And idk. It's a fanfic. XD Well, I will vouch that most girls are good kissers. They live in the moment of the kiss and not exactly try too hard or whatever. You gotta feel ittt. Ya feel me? XD

**lunavixen**: xP Well, my ratings are based on entertainment, not necessarily perfection. But okee. I'll have to live with never getting a 5 from you. Uhuhu. ; 3; Thanks for reviewing again.

**Bonobo**: Now you found out! I better get a 5! Haha. Jk. At least I know that I frustrated someone by posting a flashback after that cliffhanger at the fountain. Which I totally intended. XD

**LunarOphelia13**: I enjoyed writing about Moira too. As much as she's like Morrigan, she's got her differences also. Plus, I get to write Ophelia as a kid. I can't tell you how many fandoms I have of someone crazy in it... Or maybe I can... Azula from A:TLA, Nina from Black Swan, Yomi from Ga-Rei Zero, all claymore ladies... Etc. I think it's the rawness you can't control that mystifies me with crazy characters.

**WolfDragonGod**: OMG! New reader! S2 Well... You came at the right time. They're kinda back together now. HAHA. THANKS FOR REVIEWING.

Thanks for the compliments and reviewing everyone! Review again please.

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><p>AN: Yes. Morrigan did see everything from chapter 17. I didn't write her in there obviously for plot twist reasons and shet. And I don't have to tell you that the connection was made through the ring, do I?

Anyway, I have some questions for y'all. What's your favorite chapter so far? How do you think I'll really end this fic? Will you be tolerant of straight sex (if I wrote it?) Are you a straight girl? Sorry about that last question. Just curious. XDD

Btw, I hope you guys don't mind me putting your reviews in the summary. I usually take short keywords so that new readers get the real jist of what this story's about. I don't know if some would think it but... Want to be in the summary? Write a good review with profound keywords. XD

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	19. Chapter 19 You Stole

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_Minor Edit: April 9th, 2014  
><em>

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><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

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><p>Chapter 19 - <strong>You Stole<strong>

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><p>Ophelia watched silently as she lingered to the patio, leaned against the railing, and stirred, watching something else in the ever growing brightness. Ophelia pored over her as much as she could through half-lidded eyes, a flock in her stomach after every wind that blew, frolicked with raven tresses, and caused the owner to veer her head – granting a momentary glimpse of her choleric visage. Her face and temper were as Ophelia recalled: sour, snappy, spiteful, splenetic. It was the face she thought (in most occasions) adorable – the face that could make her day with that one in a million titter – the face she couldn't stop admiring as it flushed from raw pleasure – the face she had accidentally and ashamedly compared with a childhood friend – and the face she had loved simply because it belonged to the woman she loved.<p>

"Morrigan," Ophelia christened her name in a volume barely heard by the witch.

Nonetheless, she was heard.

"Ophelia," Morrigan twisted and replied with light surprise, "I was hoping you would wake." A cool breeze roused long and sheer curtains to flutter by her as she passed the patio doors, calm and collected in her sashay to her bedside. Once there, she posed a straight spine then queried, "How are you feeling?"

Ophelia inwardly shuddered – her expression lacked a slew of emotions she had eagerly anticipated... Delight and enthusiasm, to name a couple... But... It did contain concern, so she kept optimistic. "Happy. Since you're here," she tested with a faint smile. Analyzing the situation, it would be weird for the mage to leap for joy, literally or otherwise.

Morrigan bent a tad, inspecting her without eye contact, "Does your head hurt at all?"

The bland response and blatant avoidance of her gaze nearly frightened Ophelia to a frown. She couldn't read if they were in the same page or if there had been a chance for that anymore. What she had done to her... Was undeniably detrimental. Maybe Morrigan had simply pitied her and ignored the fact that she had almost killed her... "Not really. Thanks for asking. How long was I out?" she matched her flat tone.

"A few days," the dark head realigned her stature then crossed her arms, the whole scene she set nostalgic to a year ago when they barely knew each other.

"Could you...get my washing up?" the blonde requested, readjusting her head on the pillow.

"You should rest more," Morrigan contested quite resolutely.

"I'll stay in bed, don't worry," Ophelia assured, eliciting a sigh from Morrigan who shrugged then quickly surrendered by ambling to the bathroom.

Dragging a hand towards her skull, Ophelia traced her fingers over the bandages like braille.

_It wasn't a dream. None of it was. She had slaughtered her family's murderer, lost control and nearly strangled her ex-lover to death, then, to top everything, attempted to commit suicide._

_And she would have succeeded..._

_...If not for the woman in front of her._

As Morrigan settled the tray on her lap, Ophelia partially sat up, hawk eyes swiftly searching for the wound she had inflicted. But Morrigan was too fast and she could only ask as she withdrew, "How about you? Did you recover from–?"

"I did. Since yesterday."

Ophelia slowly nodded twice, "That's good." She didn't say more and didn't know why. "That's good," she repeated with a contemplative expression then her hands roamed and utilized the objects on the tray like the entire procedure was mechanical and not requiring her cognizance, brushing her teeth and washing her face without thinking of what she was doing.

_Iron and salt._

_Blood and tears._

_Unremitting shuddering._

She was rewinding the scene before she fainted – when she clumsily nudged the basin of water and Morrigan caught it before it completely spilled on the bed.

There was a brief pause in their close proximity – heart skipping a beat – but a mere second was all Ophelia needed to spot the scar on Morrigan's right shoulder and instinctively plant her lips on it for a tight peck.

The sorceress flinched, her breathy gasp revealing to the rogue everything she strove to hide inside.

"I'm so sorry..." Ophelia whispered shakily, remorseful lips tending to the scarred area with persistent kisses. She remained attached to Morrigan as she transitioned to hastily disregard the tray, laying it elsewhere with one arm. "I'm sorry..." Enraptured, Ophelia started to lick the fair skin like a cat caring for its kitten, her ardent tongue inciting Morrigan to inch closer and kneel on the bed. "I'm so sorry..."

Breathing nervously, Morrigan gripped the nape of her neck with her right hand and shushed, "You were ill... You did not mean to..." The nibbling lips and darting tongue journeyed momentarily to her jewelry-less neck then gradually sunk lower to her collar bone, over her sternum, then in between her breasts. She tried to protest, applying gentle pressure to the tan chest with her left hand as the famished mouth effortlessly found a perked nipple and wrapped around it. "Y-you're...still hurt."

"I don't care," Ophelia declared uncompromisingly, reveling in the softness of her breast, "I won't let you slip away from me again."

"_Ophelia..._" Morrigan clutched the sides of her face and forcibly tilted her head up.

_How she craved her. Craved her the whole time and denied it._

Adamant platinum pierced apprehensive gold in their longing rivet, fervor flowing through their veins and rekindling their flames.

Consequently, Ophelia couldn't resist the opportunity and aimed high, seizing a rosy lower lip and hauling it downwards – but Morrigan took the cue, skewed her head, and plunged her tongue into Ophelia's reflexive mouth.

They kissed for minutes. Just kissing. Their ravenous hands sought for ways to get them even closer, angling the other's heads and clinching the other's torso. Eventually, Morrigan straddled her then gently pushed her down unto the bed, dominating their amorous battle.

In that moment, nothing else mattered to them. Not the unlocked doors which risked their privacy. Not a certain red head's heart which could be broken. Not the past week when their insecurities were born. And not the future where their fears derived from. Satiating their partner's appetite was the only thing that mattered.

In actuality, their state of destitution wasn't that long. It had only been a few months since their tongues had touched and tangled. However, when one is thirsted in each of those days – not from drought but self-deprivation – time felt like an eternity.

Breaking for much needed air, Ophelia urgently untied then inhaled the brunette's hair, "I missed your smell…" She briskly pulled down the loose sleeves of her top, exposed her voluptuous breasts completely, and massaged them, rendering muted whimpers, "The sounds you make…" She flicked her tongue on a nipple then sucked it lightly, receiving a luscious moan, "Your overall reaction…" her hand traveled underneath her leather skirt and directly caressed the dampness within, "I missed you..."

"_Hanhh..._" Morrigan reacted positively, arching her pelvis to better accompany the rubbing – but it was involuntary and she hesitated by gripping the intrusive hand, "No. We shouldn't. If we reopened your wounds, you would–"

"It won't," Ophelia insisted, stroking the tiny swelling with a rigid middle finger.

Compelled, Morrigan shivered against her touch then grinded with it, biting her lips and humming by an ear, "_Ophelia..._" As the pressure and pleasure heightened, she felt her tightness relinquish fluid and she snapped back to reality, snatching Ophelia's wrists, bringing it to her sides, and pinning her down. "If we do this..." she assessed the perturbed rogue for a second then grazed a tongue on her ear lobe, "Let me lead," she coaxed seductively.

Ophelia struggled underneath the temptress: her lips, tongue, and teeth roving her bare skin like trickling water. She finally noticed that she had been naked the entire time, only a thin layer of bed sheet in between her lower body and submission.

For the first time in their tussles, she was powerless to Morrigan. Even as her wrists were released and her mildly scarred abdomen was being ravaged by a greedy mouth – she was a humble recipient, only managing to curl her fingers into the dark head. It descended some more and she tensed, "Wait..."

Discerning her worry, Morrigan tightened her grip on her waist, peered, and affectionately proclaimed, "I had just cleaned you minutes before you woke..." Her fingers traipsed over her like feathers as she repositioned herself and smoothly slipped long legs out of their covers. She admired the elegant limbs, imprinting her lips on her knee then inner thighs whilst sweet murmurs, "At the patio... I was deliberating... Whether or not... I should dress you... Anxiously thinking... 'Twas my only chance... To look at you without..." Being attached once more.

Ophelia wanted to cup the face which wedged so snugly between her core but couldn't interrupt it from delivering the escalating tingling sensations. "_Morrigan_..." She trekked her fingers pleadingly into the ebony tresses instead.

Perceiving the subtle complaint, Morrigan momentarily slid her cheek against her thigh and mollified, "I missed you as well... Terribly..."

Unable to wholly surrender, Ophelia hoisted up using her elbows and beseeched, "Morrigan, I want you too..."

Morrigan had hoped to do her the favor first, but realizing that the assertive Warden would exert herself to persuade – she reconsidered and listened. "Ophelia..." Her voice wafted like warm fire as she crawled over and gently urged her back down then hastily unfastened her skirt's belt buckles.

The flock in Ophelia's gut soared, her fingers automatically fiddling its way to find home.

Morrigan allowed her assistance until she had to maneuver away from Ophelia on the bed to slip out of her skirt, pants, and boots then drop them to the floor. Almost instantly, she regained her spot over the taller woman – but in reverse, knees adjacent to her partner's head and her head sinking between her partner's thighs.

Exhilarated, Ophelia carefully peeled her panties down then swooned inside, noting the stickiness that the undergarment stretched away from her moist folds. It thinned, snapped, then clung to the fabric, its motion as abrupt as the sound of ripping and her conquer of the witch's rear then depressing of her mound and sweetness into her mouth.

"_Opheliaa-aannh...hanh...aanh..._"

She sealed her eyes and concentrated. By that second, only the smell of gratification glorifying her nose, the feeling of intense bucking to her tongue, the hearing of high-pitched moaning filling her ears, and the taste of molten paradise in her mouth existed in her world.

[-]

Ophelia stood with vigor. But to most in the crowd noiselessly spectating – perhaps not. The power and valor was not in her movement; her movement was lithe. It could not be described as aggressive or arrogant or menacing. Just glancing at her clasp on her daggers' hilts, they were loose. Some would ponder she was careless. Who was she to brazenly oppose a war hero and veteran, more than twice her age and weight? But for every person who had seen her fight before, it was not strange. It was fundamental. To them, that power and valor she wielded was already evident in her peace of mind. She was like the lightweight stilettos she flourished – simple and not terrifying but clear-cut and deadly.

Nonetheless, Morrigan cringed as blades began to clang and echo in the humungous hall. The rascal with a half-bandaged head was obstinate in her volition to duel Loghain. She could've ordered anyone in her party to be her champion after they stepped forward, but she firmly refused to endanger any of them. Wynne, Leliana, Zevran, Alistair, and Morrigan collectively berated her, but she retained her tenacity and turned a deaf ear before they inspired controversy. Coerced by the restless audience, they acquiesced as Ophelia swiftly announced her decision.

A swipe to the scoundrel's midsection and she skipped a foot back, dodging it by a hundredth of a centimeter. Infuriated by the near-hit, Loghain growled and bashed her with his shield. She fell but effectively rolled to her feet like she had foreseen it.

They were very confident in her abilities – single-handedly slaying Flemeth and a high dragon – but she was barely at her seventy percent. A common warrior would have to loaf around for at least another two weeks if in her predicament.

Morrigan's fingers dug into her staff as the clashing of blades became more rampant. Scrunching her brows, she mustered her mana, lungs airtight like she was underwater.

She had very little value for her life. Should he defeat her, interception was readily in hand.

"My sweat outlives your youth! I do not tire, Cousland!" Loghain barked tauntingly, frustrated by his adversary's purely defensive play.

Time lapsed and his swings grew faster and more belligerent. His attacks may have missed, but his shield, elbow, and foot had violently connected once or twice with Ophelia's featherweight physique.

_ZIIIING!_

She reeled backwards and winced; his sword had cut through her greaves. Panting, she glimpsed at the slit that bled then stated resolutely, "My youth... Is enough."

_"Graah!"_

Cat eyes broadened immensely like blood seeping from a fresh prick, but just as they panicked – a high speed thrust was ensnared by durable fabric and the deluge was over – Ophelia had artfully swerved with her side cape and his weapon, disarming Loghain, drawing him in, and usurping her victory – stainless steel gracefully meeting a point at his jugular.

"In my years, though half yours, if I had learn anything... It's strategy, general," Ophelia boasted without boasting.

Loghain gritted his teeth but threw his shield and shrunk to the floor, yielding willingly at last, "I underestimated you, Warden." He was on his knees but with his chin up, measuring the pinpoint stress applied to his neck. "I thought you were like Cailan, a child wanting to play at war. I was wrong. There's a strength in you I've not seen anywhere since Maric died." His eyes were rough but coated with respect.

"Ophelia!" Morrigan unexpectedly shouted in three modulations: distress, exasperation, and reprieve. Simultaneously, the swarm of people applauded and cheered – thus, her scream was not perceived; but she was somewhat thankful, baffled by her own behavior. She stayed behind as Alistair marched onwards, dividing the assembly which enclosed around the spectacle. Her disappointment in her would have to be emphasized at a later hour.

"I accept your surrender," Ophelia retrieved her dagger and sheathed it with resolve.

Alarmed, Alistair stomped to a halt and practically snarled, "I didn't just hear you say that. You're going to let him live? After everything he's done?! Kill him, already!"

"Alistair!" Ophelia glared at him in extreme censure, thereupon comporting him and freezing him where he had fumed.

Ophelia would have advised him, if not for the pattering steps and a judicious man's voice. "Wait! There is another option! The teyrn is a warrior and general of renown. Let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining," Riordan said as he barged into the commotion. He was a senior Grey Warden they had discovered imprisoned in Howe's dungeon who escaped by himself. "There are far too few of us. It's not a matter of what we like; it's a matter of what we must do. Our duty is to slay the archdemon. We aren't judges. Kinslayers, blood mages, traitors, rebels, carta thugs, common bandits: anyone with skill and the mettle to take up the sword against the darkspawn is welcome among us." He took a few seconds to trade interpretive looks with Ophelia who seemed lenient. "There are three of us in all of Ferelden. And there are... Compelling reasons to have as many Wardens on hand as possible to deal with the archdemon."

"The Joining itself is often fatal, is it not?" Queen Anora emerged from the guarded sides and persuaded, hopeful, "If he survives, you gain a general. If not, you have your revenge. Doesn't that satisfy you?"

"Absolutely not!" Alistair rebuked at once, though with more composure, "Riordan, this man abandoned our brothers and then blamed us for the deed! He hunted us down like animals. He tortured you! How can we simply forget that?"

Riordan didn't answer and there was an absence of sound for half a minute. He, Alistair, Anora, Ophelia, and even Eamon surveyed each other telepathically in the twinkling they did not criticize Loghain in their minds or prudently scope the height of the ceilings.

"Loghain has to die for his crimes," Ophelia split the silence and triggered diminutive indignation from the masses.

...But a lot from the convicted's daughter. "You can't do this! My father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people," she contested, deep blue eyes praying to pale ones.

At her plea, Loghain disposed of his harshness and resuscitated his demulcent voice, "Anora, hush. It's over."

"Stop treating me like a child. This is serious," she firmly admonished.

"Daughters never grow up, Anora. They remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever."

She sobbed, "Father–"

Loghain redirected his gaze easily and requested, "Just make it quick, Warden. I can face the Maker, knowing that Ferelden is in your hands."

Ophelia nodded and, using both hands, wielded the longsword that was handed to her. She checked her grip then aligned it to his throat, gauging the angle and his resolve.

She nudged a heel back, leveraged the weapon, then swung. But fell short from accomplishing execution by an inch.

Everyone gasped. Bewilderment diffused in the air.

"What?" Alistair approached her, forehead creasing, "Why did you stop?"

Ophelia sighed an abysmal sigh then withdrew the sword. "We should give him another chance."

"No!" he bellowed accusingly, "No! If you spare him... I'll-!"

The Templar had balled his fists and would've retorted with something regrettable, but she reprimanded with a waking clutch to his shoulder, "Alistair! If I can be spared, so can he!"

"This man is just like Howe! How can you say that?!" he carelessly argued, out of ammunition.

Ophelia tapered her eyes and asserted, "Howe was a coward and predominantly interested in power. Useless, if not for his prowess in political corruption. This man has more dignity and genuinely cares for our country – though astray in his way." Then her visage softened and her charisma overflowed, "So was I... And some others..." She examined her group in the cluster, particularly zooming on the dark head. "Would you have forsaken me, if your choice was the only one that mattered?" she questioned him.

"But you're..." He thought twice as she gave a sterner eye. "No..."

Ophelia's hand ascended to his cheek and she bolstered her justification, "When I asked my father how he was so loved by our people, he told me five things: compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience." Her touch was amiable and almost maternal. "Well... Then he forgot to add forgiveness and corrected it. Saying it was the sixth and for the strong," she quipped slightly.

Her short anecdote was ended quirkily but it worked. Alistair huffed out his grudge and bobbed his head in lightly acceptance, following her will. She bestowed a modest smile then returned her attention to a skeptic Loghain, beckoning for him to stand.

The crowd clapped in approval for half a minute, permitting for them to get back to their respective places. At the same time, Arl Eamon took the platform and began conclusion for the Landsmeet.

As Ophelia returned to her spot, Anora had given her a grateful hug, friends and nobles had shared their compliments or two cents, and, before she could focus listening to the closing speech establishing the new leadership, Morrigan had rudely bumped her.

"How's your leg?" the brunette inquired solemnly, a speckle of acerbity in her eyes.

Ophelia blinked at her pleasantly then guaranteed, "It's shallow, don't fret." Distinguishing it was not enough, she snuck a hand and entwined her fingers with the stiff mage, "I'm fine."

Morrigan scoffed then rolled her eyes away.

_Later, still._

[-]

Deep sapphire became deeper still, a swarm of wistful thoughts lurking in its shadows.

_To simply let go and relinquish the entirety..._

_It hurt like a thousand needles, one for each follicle._

_In spite of that, she sustained. And that was why she idled on a bench, gawking blankly at the endless circulation of the water in the fountain and..._

Detaching herself from the second social supper at Eamon's estate.

Like a prolonged mental trauma, she had not chattered or even uttered more than one sentence with anyone since the incident. It was as if their roles have switched and she became the outcast, choosing to bond with bristling trees and chirping crickets instead.

She basked in the comfort of the evening breeze, her spine strictly upright, her palms pressed on her knees, her feet brazed together on the cobblestone pavement. If not for her faint respiration, she could be mistaken for a statue in the gloomy night.

"Leliana?"

She pivoted just her head, alerted by a silhouette.

It should've stayed as an illusion. She was too internally debilitated to confront the obscure frame enlarging-enlarging...

Then morphing into the epitome of her turmoil.

"Are you..." Ophelia's question lugged like a heavy wagon unable to reach its destination.

But to her astonishment, Leliana had roused from her seat and greeted her. "Hey..."

Ophelia scrutinized her for a second, "Would it be cruel if I asked how you're doing?"

_Cruel? It was cruel only seeing. To ask did nothing more. It would be the same difference._

"What do you mean? Of course it's fine." Leliana timidly tucked stray strands behind an ear and lied, "...I'm fine."

For a second, Ophelia appeared delighted, curving her lips upwards – but then she eyeballed the moon and muttered, dubious, "Everyone had been easily accepting of Morrigan and I. It seems surreal..."

The bard tittered but not a sound flew out, only an annotation, "She saved you and you pretty much need her to survive." Then she irrepressibly pouted, "Who can dispute against that?"

Stabbed by guilt, Ophelia pouted too, stretching an arm out in effort to console, "I'm sorry... This must be very unfair for-"

Leliana caught her hand before it laid on her shoulder. "No... Don't. There is no need," she rejected the apology but held on to her hand so she could gingerly mitigate, "You and Morrigan... Were meant to be together... And I..." then she freed it along with the grudge she imprisoned in her, "Was meant to bring you back to her. This is what the Maker had intended."

Ophelia's brows slanted uneasily, "And that is enough for you?"

Leliana's mien drooped lower, "Although it makes me green with envy... You're happiest when you're with her... And your happiness... Is more than enough incentive." Her confession was like the meat of a peach around the seed, bitter but sweet.

"Leliana..." It shattered Ophelia inside. But she was grateful. Remarkably grateful that in her heart, a behemoth of a burden had disintegrated and her arms had swallowed the red head and clutched at it securely. "Thank you... For everything. I won't ever forget the sacrifices you've made just for me..." she murmured to her ear, ascertaining her gratitude would be transmitted, "I couldn't have been blessed with a more selfless friend."

Leliana immediately gasped, "Please..." she protested, tears cascading, "Don't speak in such a way. I won't be able to stop myself from crying..."

Ophelia squeezed the whimpering woman as much as she could muster into her arms. If she could do her any favor at that moment, the best she could do was help her release her bottled-up feelings – like what was once done for her.

Elsewhere – maybe around one hundred fifty feet from their location – two masters of stealth spied side by side.

"They shred my heart into tiny bits and pieces, I could..." Zevran wept, hooking an arm around his companion like he wasn't merely half gay, "Please, hold me..."

His accomplice budged him away like useless garbage, buggered off. "You would do better without my hold. My grip wouldn't be of the consoling sort." Morrigan's eyes narrowed as his eyes twinkled with mockery. "Nor the pleasurable kind."

Zevran's flying griffin was shot down by a million arrows then butchered to the bone after its plummet to the ground. "Alas, some things will never change..."

With keen ears, Ophelia overheard the duo and carefully unlatched from a calmer Leliana. She then chuckled at them, a hand on a hip. "Did you two follow me?"

Reckoning it was appropriate, they descended from the short flight of stairs and trekked toward them. As soon as they arrived, Morrigan confirmed, "I did, yes. It may come surprising, but I wished to talk to Leliana after you." She then regarded the archer as tall as her and they traded pensive stares, a truce in production. "If 'twere not for you... I could've never created a connection with Ophelia during her struggle." Her chin was superciliously skewed by a centimeter but her sincerity didn't sell short. "For that... You have my thanks."

Leliana waved her head to appropriately credit, "No. It is you we should thank. In the end, you saved Ophelia. You deserve all the gratitude."

"I..." Morrigan was dumbfounded. The only other time she had ever portrayed the slightest nervous stupefaction like this one, a coarse hand had slapped her facial skin off to another dimension. "I was incapacitated. I could not have accomplished it by myself. Is that so difficult to understand?" She whined like a frustrated child unable to uncoil a string puzzle, "How can any of you endure this twisting, sickening feeling that currently plagues my innards? If this persists, I swear, I might as well eviscerate my own intestines," she chopped at the air definitively.

"Aww... Morrigan..." Ophelia imitated an exaggerated frown then seized the apostate's cheeks, "You are so adorable when you wrinkle your nose like an allergic little mabari puppy." She had compressed her face into a guppy.

While Zevran and Leliana chuckled, Morrigan swathed the assaultive hands and enunciated like she had plainly ignored it, "That it is, then. Perhaps I am allergic to such sentiments and should refrain from it before it kills me."

Ophelia bared her teeth quite lecherously and drew her in by the buttocks. "No you're not and I won't let you." Then she inspired rather earnestly, "If anything, it's the greatest proof of your healthy humanity."

"You and your..." Morrigan smoothed her edginess, though not necessarily agreeing. "Infinite words of wisdom..."

"I got it from a book." Ophelia tightened her hold on her waist and jested, "A bedtime story my mother read to me – 'the Witch of the Woods,' I think it was."

"Cute. How very unfortunate I missed out on what would certainly be such a splendid story," Morrigan deadpanned.

"I'll tell you all about it tonight," Ophelia hinted with a wink.

Then on a whim, she stared at Leliana.

Then back to Morrigan.

Then she snaked an arm over their shoulders and roughly hauled them in, cheek to cheek, "Anyhow, I have a thought..."

Morrigan shrunk back, "A thought? What kind of thought?" she eyed Ophelia as if she was repulsed, "That smirk... This can't be to my liking..."

"I think you both deserve a reward for saving my life," Ophelia licked her lips in preparation for her premeditated scheme, "How about I take you two out on a vacation. Somewhere tropical. Just the three of us in a lonely island resort."

Morrigan groaned, "I already know where this leads, so no. Not in this lifetime or the next, should there be one," she hastily resurfaced from the huddle.

Leliana simpered, "Umm... I'm not sure..."

"Let me finish..." Ophelia implored when she lost her most promising prospect.

"I'll go," Zevran proposed with some enthusiasm, though they didn't even hear him, blatantly disregarded.

Morrigan folded her arms, "No is no. I do not want a threesome. 'Twill be more of a reward for you than 'twill be for us."

"I love lonely island resorts," Zevran endeavored once more, even raising his hand.

But he was only dispensed with thunder and lightning and hail as Ophelia put forth, "Fine." She adhered to the bard like they were a married couple. "Me, Leliana, and Isabela then. Right, Leliana?"

Leliana took initiative and speedily uncoiled from the rogue. "Err... If we want to be skinned alive, then sure..." She diffidently claimed, "Morrigan doesn't share."

Morrigan grinned proudly, "An excellent answer," she complimented then whacked the blonde upside the head, "I do not share."

Ophelia nursed her head then picked it up and scowled, "You selfish woman..."

Naturally, Morrigan's eyes rolled. "Deal with it."

Ophelia reclaimed her stature and loomed over her, "No, you deal with it," she flopped – but kind of intentionally.

They were right next to each other and in each others faces – their usual routine returning.

Morrigan countered nonchalantly, "My, you've gotten rusty. That was pathetic. Have you no other retort?"

"That's not what you said last night."

Amused, Leliana and Zevran watched their banter, absorbed like kids in a puppet show.

"How outstandingly observant of you."

"How observant of you to observe that I am observant."

"Ugh. Stop talking. You are worse than Alistair. You make little to no sense."

"Your vagina makes no sense," Ophelia quirkily posed an underbite. She was enjoying being an idiot and still gaining desired feedback.

Not exactly offended but still appalled by the half-assed comment, Morrigan jumped back in the ring with a coercive adjustment to her bearing. "Oh? Is that so?" Her irises shot an entropic energy that couldn't be imaginary.

_Or was it?_

At any rate – fearing the ominous call of the couch in their bedroom, Ophelia cowered by an inch and excused, "It's abstract. Damn magical!" her eyes glittered at the word 'magical.'

Morrigan toasted her with a prickly once-over, but then divulged, "Not a bad save."

Out of nowhere, Zevran pounced like a predatory wild cat, "And we are a family once more." He captured Ophelia from behind but included Morrigan and Leliana in his arms, "_Mwah!_" he kissed Ophelia on the head, "I love you!" then Leliana, "And you!" then he made a move for Morrigan, "And you_-n-nooo_!" But he was violently smacked and Ophelia tumbled to the opposite side, urging him to climb onto Leliana.

"_Ow!_" the bard cringed, "Zevran! Your boot's digging unto my back!"

Zevran understood and hopped off then wondered, "My boot? My boot wasn't on your back."

"You're joking..." Leliana was dusting off her outfit when she stiffened from repugnance.

"Ridiculous," Ophelia giggled lightly, "We should be ashamed. Who will take us seriously if someone saw us?"

"By we, you must mean you and Zevran," Morrigan corrected.

Ophelia would've resumed their repartee if not for her spotting Alistair in the distance. "We should go back to the dining hall or Oghren and Sten will finish everything," she promptly reminded.

Alistair projected over the minor staircase as if he heard, "Come, all of you. We've been waiting. The food will get cold."

They shrugged to each other then 'obeyed,' parading over toward him insouciantly.

After they reached the steps, Alistair ordained, "Let's hurry. I told everyone to stay put at the table 'till you all returned."

Zevran arched a brow, "King Alistair commanding his subordinates to stay put for supper?"

"My... 'Tis a milestone, truly," Morrigan embellished the elf's astoundment.

"Actually," Wynne popped up from behind the Templar, "it was a unanimous decision."

Alistair groused, "Hey! I brought it up."

"Oh, then my apologies, your Highness," Wynne played the embarrassing mother.

Morrigan mocked as they began to walk together inside, "Yes. Let us be very careful and choose what we say or he might next throw us in a dungeon." She was at the tail of the pack, along with her irritating paramour – who suddenly bit her on the shoulder like a bothersome insect. "Stop, Ophelia!" she pounded then pinched the gnat.

"Sorry," Ophelia beamed happily, "I can't help it. You're irresistible," she cajoled then ensnared the witch in her clasp as they marched onwards.

The brunette initially resisted but eventually warmed up, even letting her hands to be entwined.

Their friends peeked and snickered at them from time to time; carefree as ever after a month of angst.

[-]

The dining table spread long with incessant babbles and opulent nobles. Well, delectable food and grandeur decoration too, if one ruminates. The humungous room was brightly illuminated, classy chandeliers hanging in a symmetrical fashion up above. In retrospect, the setting was just Eamon's estate – the royal palace the Landsmeet was conducted in would have a way more grandiose dining hall.

When Alistair didn't fantasize about his impending lifestyle, he flicked at the grapes on his plate with his fork and mulled over his impending responsibilities.

He propped on an elbow then veered to his right: Eamon, at the center, in a conversation with Anora at the other side.

The event, in senior part, was for Alistair and Anora to showcase some teasers for what type of country Ferelden would be with their leadership.

He propped on the other elbow then veered to his left: Ophelia stacking her plates while yapping to Morrigan at her left.

Thank the Maker for his godsend friend. If not for her, he would remain as Maric's bastard son moping endlessly about Duncan's death. Now, he was a passable king and...

"You alright, Alistair?" Ophelia had glanced at him and broke his daze.

"Is it too late to ask for your hand in marriage?" Alistair proffered as if that was all he had been contemplating, "You can have Morrigan as your mistress and-"

Ophelia slurped on a spoonful of ice cream then chaffed, "What's the matter, Alistair? Afraid of Anora?"

"Well... Yes." Alistair wasn't affected by her humor. "She is Loghain's daughter."

Ophelia sighed heavily then informed like it was common sense, "Pardon my unoriginality... But you can't judge a book by its cover." She pointed at him with the eating utensil, "Give her a shot. You'll like her," then she scooped another chunk of creamy chocolate then tastefully licked it, her gaze diverging across the table, "I kind of like her." Her tongue ran circles around the perimeter of the huge scooped ice cream before she lodged the decadence into her mouth.

"Are you..." Alistair examined the spectacle in front of him, "Eyeing Anora?"

Morrigan had simply cleared her throat like food had been the reason, her attention still on eating casually.

"What?" Ophelia hastily fixed her posture so the mage could see that her eyes were not on the broad mentioned. "Of course not, silly." But then she reconsidered just as rapidly and brazenly leered, "Though, now that you mention it... She does have a nice chest, doesn't she?"

A thud resounded from below.

While sipping a glass of wine, Morrigan had stomped on her foot.

Ophelia pivoted her head dramatically but smiled at her sweetly, "I'm just building character, honey."

"Stare for more than necessary and I'll pluck your eyes out," Morrigan smiled back, eyelashes fluttering gracefully.

Alistair gawked, "_Err..._"

Back to ogling, Ophelia clasped her hands together below her chin and hypothesized, "Look at it. They're mesmerizing aren't they?"

"Aye!" Oghren had circulated the table and stolen the platter of nug on their side of the table.

Ophelia grunted jovially, "See? Oghren agrees. Stop being such a virgin, Alistair." She nudged him by the elbow and commanded, "Say yes. Agree with me."

"_Uh-yea..._"

"That's it?" Ophelia nudged him again, "Yea, she has a nice chest. Say it."

"She has a nice chest..." Alistair droned.

Ophelia grabbed him on the neck and shook him vehemently, "Now, doesn't it make you feel manlier when you say that?" She patted him a 'good job' then pondered, two fingers to her lips, "I should've gotten Zevran to teach you a few things. You'd certainly be more confident."

"Like what? Sex?" Alistair queried with wide eyes, horrified.

Not to snub her favorite dessert, Ophelia took her time to clean up the ice cream bowl in one sweep then she shoved it into her mouth and mumbled with a mouthful, waving the spoon like a wand, "Not nerrcessarily. But you crould loorsen up and explore a lirtttle, right?" The lump in her throat was as big as a bronto's back when she swallowed. "Or did you want lessons from me, instead?" she volunteered with a jut of her head forward.

"_Uhm..._"

She then whispered in a hypnotizing voice, "Have you ever fondled a breast, Alistair?"

Morrigan was about to peep when Ophelia snatched his hand and slyly pushed it against her chest.

Alistair's eyes lit like fireworks while he salivated, "_Wow_..." But it was short-lived – Morrigan towered over them, her glower prompting him to retrieve his hand. "N-n...No!"

Morrigan bellowed, "How indecent!" She was ready to unleash damnation over the blonde head cracking up noiselessly, but the individuals staring from the other seats pressured her to quietly sit down.

Ophelia opened a palm for her and jeered, "Pay up."

Morrigan was sweltering but she controlled herself and managed below yelling capacity, "I'm not paying!"

Zevran was sniggering as he appeared from somewhere and dropped a tiny bag of coins on the displayed palm, "And so he does like women, at least partially."

"What the–?" Alistair reeled in his chair, baffled by their game.

"You guys are cruel," Leliana remarked as she passed someone else's sack of gold to Ophelia, Morrigan grumpily gobbling up food beside them to confine her rage.

"Sod it..." Oghren could be perceived from afar.

Alistair finally griped, nearly tugging on the tablecloth from bewilderment, "Maker's breath! Stop teasing me! I know, I'm a virgin! I get it!"

"Indeed. Anora's one lucky lady," Ophelia furthered his bashfulness.

"I'm not sleeping with her! Not yet! I mean–!" totally flushed, Alistair swiped his hands and tried to suppress himself, "We totally went off a tangent!"

"Relax. No pressure. Take your time." Ophelia was inwardly cackling.

Alistair mandated discussion of his topic, "Anyway! Back to what I was saying..." Eyes scrunched, he meditated for a number of seconds then calmly stated, "You... Would be a far better queen. There's no doubt."

Handing over her plates as a helper arrived, Ophelia shifted and reset to her professional mannerism. "Oh~ I try not to get into politics unless it's necessary. I wouldn't enjoy it even if I might turn out good at it."

Alistair coaxed with certitude, "You would be perfect. You don't even try half the time and you're an excellent leader and diplomat."

Ophelia poured herself liquor then rejoined, "Alistair, my place is with the Wardens and rebuilding it. I reckon we would be more productive as a country if Anora stayed as queen, you – her king, and me – a leader of your council." She was fiddling with her glass and making the beverage spin as she deliberated, "Anora should do the same she did with Cailan – lead the country under the king's prerogative – your prerogative but with my council as a mediator, ensuring you are not treated as a puppet." Decided, she imbibed the liquid at whole, articulated a refreshed 'ah,' then petted Alistair's hair, "I'll be your support, don't worry~"

Alistair gazed at her and speculated if she was drunk. Dwelling upon her logic, however, he deemed it legitimate and succumbed, "Okay... I'll stick to the plan and marry her." He partially sprawled on the table after defeat.

Ophelia chuckled while fixing another glass of booze, "That's my boy~"

[-]

She could sense Ophelia approach little by little, an ambition to frighten her out of her skin. But she knew. The ring had told her.

In any case, she carried on – scoping the horizon of sleeping village and verdure with an elegant moon to guard them from above.

Soon enough, satin hands grazed over her goosebumps like a blanket, blanking her mind.

"Did I scare you?" Ophelia sang against her ears.

And it almost did the trick.

Except she was Morrigan and she abhorred rubbish.

In the heartbeat Ophelia twirled her around, she delivered a swift kick to her groin.

"_UGGHH! My clitoris!_" Ophelia clung to her genitals like she had been severely injured there. "What was that for?! The Alistair situation?" she cried out.

Morrigan growled, "Yes! And for this morning!" She then heaved her up by the collar as much as her strength permitted and admonished, "Stop playing the suicidal hero, will you?! 'Tis getting very old and annoying!" Her snarl consisted of fury and worry. "I should be the only cause of your death! And not by any other means but my disdain for your actions becoming completely unbearable!"

Subsequently let loose, Ophelia justified sternly, cognizant of the sorceress' woe, "Believe it or not, it was not in my objective to be slain. I was sure I could defeat him!"

Not to be out-stubborned, Morrigan countered, a vein popping on her neck, "I do believe in your abilities – but you have not fully recovered! Do not be so reckless as to risk your life at any given opportun–!"

Ophelia had charged, obsidian lips tyrannizing rubicund ones to docility.

After two insufficient seconds, the clutch on Morrigan's visage dwindled and the witch could've screamed when their tongues unlaced.

"Calm down. I'm alive, aren't I?" Ophelia had perforated two suns with her two moons. "I chose to live – because of you..." And her touch had spread like wildfire. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"You are like a child sometimes!" Morrigan forgave but her irascibility persevered.

"You worry for children?"

"No! You are immature!"

"We all are, in one way or another... Aren't we?" Ophelia pleasantly philosophized. Then she caressed her lips and enquired, "Anything else you wish to add?"

Morrigan was just about exhausted of this fight. "Add? To what?"

"To your scolding?"

All her systems were a go for the next stage of their wrangle. "Such as?"

"Such as what I did at the Landsmeet? And my plans for Alistair?" Ophelia recommended for debate, puzzled that they weren't yet.

Morrigan waited for the midnight wind to sway her bangs before she quizzed, "Would you alter your decisions if I said yes?" Like the wind, she had become cool and she wavered Ophelia with her words, "You chose to live... That's what's most important."

Ophelia didn't tarry and bundled her into her arms, "I can't begin to express..." She nuzzled into her neck, savoring her essence, "How glad I am. You've changed so much, Morrigan..."

The mage could only seal her eyes shut and wished they could deliquesce together in the clinch then vanish, forsaking the world just to forsake everything that could separate them.

[-]

_Last night they said the fire had spread,_  
><em>And we said our prayers,<em>  
><em>And now the flames are burning me in my bed,<em>  
><em>But I just don't care,<em>  
><em>We all go to sleep in the same place,<em>  
><em>And in the morning hope that we're all the same,<em>  
><em>Just sit around like broke down cars in the lot waiting for repairs.<em>

[-]

It was like an avalanche – an unpredictable propulsion of something immeasurable, relentless, overwhelming, cataclysmic, hypothermic, rupturing...

_"I assumed you had already been told."_

_"Have you ever wondered why the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?"_

_"The archdemon may be slain as any other darkspawn, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough."_

_"The essence of the beast will pass through the taint to the nearest darkspawn and will be reborn anew in that body. The creature is thus all but immortal."_

_"But if the archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden..."_

_"Its essence travels into the Grey Awarden instead."_

_"A darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel, but a Grey Warden is not. The essence of the darkspawn is destroyed..."_

_"And so is the Grey Warden."_

It was like an avalanche.

Days ago, they were sunny, perky, and filled with blithe. Then news of the darkspawn horde barged into their party like an uninvited guest. They strategized accordingly and headed toward Redcliffe, where they figured the darkspawn would attack.

Only to realize that it was a decoy and the bulk of the horde was proceeding to Denerim.

The news didn't cease there. Riordan had called them to his quarters.

Hence the revelation.

_"The essence of the darkspawn is destroyed and so is the Grey Warden."_

Who would've surmised that this oneway ticket was the only way to end the Blight?

They depended too early that there wouldn't be any more secrets. Then again, who would've been briefed of all the perils that come with being a Grey Warden? No one would sign up.

"Alistair."

A voice accompanied the rapping at the door.

"I must speak with you."

_It was authoritative... Yet also distressed..._

Alistair scrubbed his face as if to wake himself then willed himself to the door. It creaked as he opened it and christened with a shade of disdain, "Morrigan." He stepped aside as the mage consented herself in. "I half-expected you'd arrive... And half-dreaded it."

Morrigan wandered to an arm chair but didn't sit. "You did, did you?" She had her typical fractious aspect – but somehow also unsettled, rendering her speech a bit more tame. "And why is that?"

Alistair locked the door then torpidly ventured in her direction and affirmed, "I had a hunch that you knew what would happen to the Grey Warden that kills the archdemon."

"I did." Morrigan crossed her arms. "So then, you know why I am here?" She wasn't abrasive.

On the other hand, he was. "I'm not sure, but I'll take a guess." His nose crumpled one pinch. "Is it... To tell me again to be a man, stand up, and protect Ophelia – to tell me to slay the archdemon and die?"

Morrigan wavered her head once. "No. Is that your best guess? You will be king. That would be a foolish idea."

"Oh?"

Perpending that she, herself, had been studied, she then lectured, "If you had previously discussed my intents with the rest of the group – as I assumed you did with Ophelia, Leliana, and, perhaps, Wynne – you would understand that what I had in mind is to save." She planted a step closer to him and resolutely adduced. "Save. 'Twill be a solution, a way out – ensuring no one must die in place of the other." Taking an unfathomable breath, she retreated and averted her gaze. "Knowing Ophelia, she would never let you get near the archdemon and put yourself in grave danger. And I am almost a hundred percent positive, for various reasons, that she would endure and wield the sword that slays the archdemon – and not place her trust on Riordan nor Loghain. That is why I particularly said that I must 'save' her." With that concession, her voice was evidently scarred with chagrin.

So Alistair prodded, befuddled to some degree, "Then... What was that speech about me manning up and protecting her?"

"My solution..." Morrigan restored their comprehensive rivet and imparted, "To save the Warden who ends the life of the archdemon?" She solidified her stare and stressed, "Must involve your cooperation."

Alistair repined straightaway, afraid of the worst, "My cooperation? Because I'm going to be king? You want something in exchange for–"

"No!" Insulted, Morrigan irately reprimanded but didn't shout, "Certainly not. I need no reward, I simply want Ophelia safe."

Distinguishing the sincerity in her poise, Alistair simmered, "Then why me? Why my cooperation?"

"For... A ritual in the dark of night," Morrigan muttered lowly then tarried, bracing herself as she bordered a cliff. "Because you... Are a male Grey Warden."

"A 'male' Grey Warden?" Alistair echoed, staggered by the reveal. "Wh-what are you proposing, exactly?" He wasn't too ignorant not to comprehend what the phrase could imply. "Wait. Does Ophelia even know about this?!" He distanced himself from her like her words had been a blatant threat.

Morrigan stated flatly, "No. She does not."

"Then this will be against her wishes!"

Her constancy didn't wane. "'Tis true. But I am giving her no choice. I am determined to save her. And you should be as well."

His hair became ruffled as he combed it then noted petulantly, "But it still depends on your request. If she would decline, I'm sure I wouldn't like this either." He inhaled and exhaled for ten seconds as if worn out by unremitting pestering, but then, out of curiosity, he ultimately questioned, "Tell me. What is it that you ask of me?"

_The point of no return. If she should be deserted for this, at least she tried._

"Listen closely. And do not interrupt," Morrigan warned before sashaying to his bed and serenely plopping down on it. "What I propose is this..." After the transition, she became bafflingly soft-spoken and so was her mien. Her golden eyes never left Alistair as she divulged carefully like setting a baby in a crib, "Lay with me... Here, tonight. And from our joining, a child will be conceived. The child will bear the taint, and when the archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb that essence and not perish. The archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process."

Alistair's jaw would've unhinged if not for his need to express, "That's insane! And just what would become of the child when it's born? A darkspawn?" he probed with ire.

"Not at all. It will become something different: a child born with the soul of an Old God," Morrigan assured just as tranquil as before then continued, "After this is done – after she is saved and the battle is over – you will allow me to walk away and you do not follow. The child will be mine to raise as I wish."

"So you'll leave us after you get what you want? You'll leave Ophelia?! Again?!" Alistair glared accusingly.

Morrigan's chin stooped. "This is why... I was sent by my mother. It's why she saved your lives to begin with." She virtually frowned from thought of the disaster. "Falling for her... Was not a part of the plan." Her eyes had fallen to her lap and lingered there fleetingly – 'til her doggedness prevailed and she ruled, "But this is crucial. I cannot let what I feel interfere with what I must do... To save her."

"Let me think about this for a second..." Alistair summarized candidly, "You want to do this... Thing with me then leave," he had begun laughably, "Well, that's just it, isn't it? Everything about this will surely upset if not anger Ophelia!" but he finished sharply.

Not to be nullified, Morrigan stood and leveled with him, "Do not cloud the issue! We must save her! That is what this boils down to!"

Alistair threw his face to the side and groaned in pain, crumpling his eyes like he was about to weep.

Perceiving the responsibility he was sorting inside, Morrigan reposed a hand on his shoulder and sympathized, "'Twill take but a moment."

Her hand hiked toward his cheek and he grabbed it before it did, "We can't do this... We can't betray her."

Morrigan eyed him with a gracious flitter of her lashes then slyly reached his other cheek with her other hand and mollified, "But we will save her life. What could be better?"

Alistair shuddered against her touch as it dribbled down his chest and unbuttoned his shirt, "Ophelia... Will be furious…" he mumbled penitently, glossy eyes focused on dimly lit walls, "And what about her health? Her inner demon? If you leave…"

"_Shh... I will take care of it._"

Her lips were on the verge of grazing his neck when boisterous clap of approbation resounded in the room.

"What a great performance," Ophelia instantaneously announced her presence with applaud, "I'm afraid I must end it here, however."

"_Ophelia...!_" Morrigan froze as the rogue progressed toward them, seemingly deriving from a window.

"You were right in your speculation – we discussed what your little plan might be, before and just recently between me and Alistair. But I didn't say I would spy on him – so you wouldn't suspect anything," Ophelia grinned and shrugged like it was all a playful game, "Either way, it shouldn't be surprising that I anticipated your meeting with him here, should it?"

Morrigan cringed from failure and not humiliation. "I... I suppose not..." She then went straight to the core of the matter and implored desperately, "Please, Ophelia. I know 'tis insane... Consider–"

Ophelia was a foot away when she looked at her icily and mandated, "No."

Morrigan blared, "This will save your life!"

"I would rather die."

"_You are a fool!_"

Whilst the animosity of her lover, Ophelia had fastened one button on the silent Templar's shirt and acknowledged contentedly, "Thank you, Alistair."

"I did not come all this way to witness your death!" Morrigan vociferated louder for her attention.

And Ophelia gave it to her, efficiently blase, "Of course not. You want the baby conceived."

Even louder... "_To save your life!_"

"Stop yelling," she clenched her arm in a vice grip and fiercely yet composedly ordered, "Come with me to my room."

[-]

_There you go,_  
><em>There it goes...<em>

"So, let's be clear..." Ophelia locked the door behind her then faced Morrigan with an incriminating skepticism that burnt. "You only want the baby, don't you?"

"No!" Morrigan's rage couldn't be compared to the heat of the fireplace next to her. "I want to save your life! Shouldn't you trust me – after all we've been through?!"

Ophelia advanced then grabbed her on the sides and brought her against a wall. "Damn it, I want to!" Her fingers almost clawed into her skin as she tuned down her ire and voice to explain, "The major factor why I can't is... Why do you have to flee after the battle?"

_Well I wish that I was as good as you,_  
><em>Caring and trusting.<em>

Morrigan failed to apply vindication to her next few words, vaguely revealing, "'Tis... For the child's benefit." Her irises bounced up and down in her strain not to gulp uneasily. It was a test of lie detection and she was already cracking. How humiliating that she had that effect on her.

_And I wish that my condition was new but I'm old and rusting._

"Solely?" Ophelia released her, "I reckon you have more to your agenda," she insinuated, jutting a palm toward the boots of her subject, "Running away with a baby possessing the soul of an Old God!" she gestured toward the ceiling, emphasizing the level of absurdity.

_So we just hurry up only to wait,  
>Add to the list of all the places we hate.<br>And I pretend like I got something to say,_  
><em>But I've got nothing.<em>

"Forgive me... But more than that, I cannot say," Morrigan confessed simply in defense but remembered her purpose and followed it with a plausible excuse, "Trust that this will save your life! Where else could you acquire a deal like I proposed? You would be the first Grey Warden to slay the archdemon and live! No one had ever done this before!"

Ophelia sneered, "I don't care about boasting rights! I don't want you to sleep with Alistair!"

"Is that it?!" Morrigan advanced towards her and challenged, eye to eye, "Is that why you decline?!"

Ophelia glowered down on her, stating flatly, "I don't share."

Morrigan was bug-eyed, mouth agape to its fullest extent. "Do you mock me?! That is not a valid reason!" she shrieked then thrusted an oppressive finger to her chest, "This is your life that depends on it!"

Nudged by a tad, Ophelia swathed the hand away then mimicked her movement but with more pressure, "The same can be said for your reasons!" Morrigan was reeled a step backward and the blonde compelled forward, "Besides, if I can at least be with my family, then so be it!"

Completely infuriated, Morrigan's demeaning tone elevated even more that it hurt, "_YOU ARE IMMATURE! If you truly love them, you will choose to live – ON THEIR BEHALF!_"

In sharp contrast, Ophelia merely deadpanned, her countenance flat, "Furthermore, whatever lurks inside of me will be destroyed with me, along with the soul of the Old God," she then smirked to herself, "Two birds with one stone..."

"What...?!" Morrigan's scornful face collapsed to a sorrowful grimace, "I thought we had established that you would not give in... You chose to _live_!"

"I did... And because I knew I'd be with you – remember?" Ophelia gradually peered downwards, wishing to be as guiltless as the lifeless rug her feet were on. "But to avoid the complications and die for a noble cause-"

"To live is more noble!" Morrigan interjected, restoring her assertiveness whilst her mounting disquietude, "And complications?! We can make it work! I will make it work!" Previously ignited diamond eyes refused to meet her in her mosey closer. As if soothing a sulking child, she cupped her cheeks then stared at her quietly and for a long while, even when she received not a glimpse in return.

_How quickly their acrimonious discord simmered and calmed._

"My venturing to your deranged mind and waking you – the you I know – was not a mere coincidence," Morrigan murmured then inched her head, their noses practically touching, "'Twas fate, Ophelia. Seeing you there... Amidst a mountain of mutilated limbs and mauled bodies... Lost and damaged?" She didn't intend to, but her whispers quivered mildly. "A volley of deep, strange emotions crashed inside of me..." Her fingers were like a rhythmic lullaby as she stroked the stoic face. "I realized... I was like you. But yours is a pain that is far greater. One that I could relate to but feared I could not heal." She swallowed, the burden becoming intolerable. "That is why... When I realized that my presence stirred something within you... I wanted to try and save you from yourself." At this, she was granted a fervid look – the exact look before she redeemed her – and so she smiled, translucent pearls forming at the ducts of her eyes, "_And I did_..."

"_Morrigan_..." Ophelia finally replied and wrapped her arms around her waist and shoulder, hooking her tightly into a tender cinch, "It's okay... It's fine." She then huskily breathed against her ear and neck, proclaiming protectively as if she was the one who should keep her from harm, "Keeping me alive... To die with this Blight is my destiny. I see this now..."

Morrigan gasped and tore away from her, a tear smoothly streaming down her cheek. "_Then you are hopelessly blind!_"

_Now I know that you stole,_  
><em>Yeah you stole.<em>

Ophelia grasped her wrist and her waist then tugged her with the same amount of plea in her eyes, "Stay with me until the end. That is all I want and need from you."

Morrigan struggled to free herself, so she jammed the other fist into the doomed Warden's chest and screamed, "You are a dumb fool! And I hate you!" Punching and slapping, she repeated the beating along with a spiteful incantation, "_I hate you! I hate you!_"

Ophelia surrendered to the abuse and insults but retained her conviction and desire to embrace her. "_I'm so~rry, Morrigan_...!" she apologized again, her pronunciation was prolonged and her phonetic had undulated despairingly.

Gathering her strength, Morrigan shoved the rogue using her unrestrained hand and upper body, detaching herself. "I despise..." And without thinking, she grabbed the nearest vase from a side table then hurled it at Ophelia's boots and simultaneously screeched, "Everything about you! This did not need to be this difficult!"

Inertia split the porcelain asunder and such were their hearts.

"If you were just an acquaintance..." In the pang of contrition, Ophelia acknowledged hesitantly, "It would be easier for me to accept your offer... Or you would be fine leaving me for dead..."

Morrigan half-buried her forehead into her palms, recalling the major factor for her leader's biased affection, "I curse the day I was born, looking anything like this _Moira_..."

In a swift motion, Ophelia retrieved her lover's wrists, uncovered her face, and demanded, "Shut it." Then she frowned – the typically callous witch was flushed beneath waterworks. "You mean more to me..."

Morrigan trembled miserably against her touch that when she tilted her head to veer away, there was no strife opposing it. "Never have I been so confused about anything in my entire life..." She turned her back then leaned lethargically on the dresser, contemplating as she wiped her tears. "_I hate you..._"

Her sour disposition was reflected on a nearby floor mirror, its angle consenting Ophelia to pore over her as the apostate persisted to say...

_"I hate your sense of benevolence._

_Must you salvage every poor soul, some not even having the tongue to appeal for it?_

_I hate the subtle quirks you enact;_

_'tis not adorable as 'tis incredibly aggravating!_

_I hate your smile, your laugh..._

_How it never fails to churn my insides..._

_I hate your eyes..._

_Those..._

_Mesmerizing silver eyes with the striking tinge of elusive azure._

_And with one soulful stare, I'm trapped._

_I hate your tender touch yet secure hold._

_How I yearn for it. How no one has ever held me the way you do._

_I hate your warmth molding against my back when we sleep._

_With one squeeze and one hot breath to my neck, I am reminded of..._

_What we share..."_

During the dark head's pained but heartwrenching verses, Ophelia had lingered behind her and hovered a hand a couple of centimeters from brushing creamy skin, uncertain of what to say.

_From the cradles they were rocked in,_  
><em>You took the first words that they spoke,<em>  
><em>Yeah you stole, <em>  
><em>Yeah you stole.<em>

Yet, it seemed she didn't have to.

"Worst of all..." Morrigan swerved around and utterly confessed, "I hate how I cannot truly hate you!" She gritted her teeth, stifling herself from sobbing.

But Ophelia hauled her in – and Morrigan caterwauled against the side of her neck like a burst of rain.

"I tell myself constantly of why this would never work. But ultimately, I can't... I cannot hate you at all... Not even one measly bit..." Morrigan sunk to her collarbone and shook her head ashamedly, "Why must you love me?! I did not ask for any of this!" Like it was solely at fault, she bawled boisterously to her chiffon shirt, "I denied you! TWICE! But you forced it! Why couldn't you leave me be?!" she sniveled then shivered once more, "And your illness... I couldn't..." She panted desperately then her fingers curled into the fabric and she vigorously pushed with brute force, "I wish I had never met you!"

Taken by surprise, Ophelia recoiled a step back. Eyeing her startlingly. "Morrigan..." she mumbled with a slightly hunched spine – rattled, thwarted, perturbed, disconcerted, discomfited, discomposed.

_She wanted to say something... Anything to change her mind._

But before she could, Morrigan had already changed hers. "_I love you..._" she said.

Like a spark, Ophelia smiled spontaneously for a split-second – but Morrigan had extinguished it as soon as it materialized, her mouth slamming then meshing passionately with hers.

It wreaked havoc to her brain – her trying to process everything that had just transpired.

From the recited, euphonious three words to the vertiginous, euphoric kiss.

Their curlicue only lasted for twenty seconds, but it was enough to affirm their mutual devotion – Ophelia fondling her face with zeal, "I love you too..."

Morrigan only exhaled nervously in response. She was flustered and a little embarrassed, so she lodged into her shoulder, away from sight but still in hand.

Sensing the more sedate than salacious semblance of her partner, Ophelia discarded the urge to heave her backside from sheer joy, merely sowing pecks and nibbling on her neck instead.

They clung to each other's warmth for an extended while, their heads nestled on each other's shoulders in the slow dance.

_Now I know that you stole,_  
><em>Yeah, you stole,<em>  
><em>From the cradles they were rocked in,<em>  
><em>You took the first words that they spoke,<em>  
><em>Yeah you stole,<em>  
><em>Yeah you stole.<em>

Ophelia guided her in their drift in the midst of panacea. She had sealed her eyes and cherished the tranquility; the fireside a bulwark to the pacifying ambiance – dim vividness with sporadic crackles. Then in a spur, she dragged her tongue across her neck, licking salty skin up and down thoroughly as if it had been neglected.

Morrigan moaned mutedly, "_Please_..." Despite the endeavor to deter her, she hummed in reminder, "_Let me save you_..."

Ophelia paused for a second, pondering. "I can't let you..." she then queried in between her hollow biting, "If you'll leave... What's the point?"

Morrigan raised her lips to an ear, "I'll be with you... Through the ring." She squeezed her tighter and clearly beseeched, "If not for me... Do it for Leliana, Zevran, Alistair... Just _please_..."

"I can't..."

"_I love you_."

Ophelia had calmly disapproved but remained in their clinch, "I can't... I'm sorry."

"_Please_..." Morrigan modified her hold on her back, in someway also hoping it modified her judgment. "_I love you_."

"Simply stay with me, Morrigan."

"What else must I say or do to be able to persuade you?" she probed, on the edge of crying again.

"I'm sorry... Nothing can..." Ophelia clarified flatly.

_Stubborn fool._

Surfacing out of the fleeting trance, Morrigan took advantage of their placid states, slipping and receding slowly out of the entrapment, "I...I must leave," she asserted then instantly strode toward the door before she could be halted.

_So if I'm a liar and you're a thief,_  
><em>At least we both know where the other one sleeps,<em>  
><em>So let's end this tonight.<em>

"What?" Ophelia chased after her, behind by a few steps.

"If you will not accept my offer, then I must leave._ Now_..." Morrigan revealed without peering back.

Ophelia's tone became sharper, "Where are you going?_ To Alistair_?" When the sorceress unlocked and opened the door, Ophelia bolted and bashed it shut, generating a loud thud, "_Stop!_"

"Let me through." Morrigan commanded to the rascal who had set herself as a barrier from the exit. "This love we share... Despite our efforts... Had mutually caused us more harm than good," she decisively contended.

"Was that a deceitful act? Have my words lost substance?" Ophelia's platinum orbs broadened abruptly, the daunting flash of suspicion reemerging from the depths of her eyes, "You... You just want the child. Saving me is just one convenient side effect! Admit it!"

Morrigan snapped, her nose contorting from disbelief, "If you do not believe that I am in love with you – then you have a case of dementia that cannot be cured!"

Ophelia consequently roared, "THEN LET ME DIE!"

"Do what you please! And I will do the same!"

_"YOU WHORE!"_

The aspersion was too much and Morrigan's palm flung against the Warden's heedless countenance before she could figure it occurred. "I can be – FOR YOU! Just –_ FOR YOU_!"

Shaken, Ophelia propped her head against the door, tending to the side that was struck with one hand. "_Why do you care...if you will just...leave?_" she warily tested.

Morrigan gulped despondently, regretful of what she had done. "Because you'll be alive... You deserve more..." Like a procedure for her repentance, she eventually rested her forehead against Ophelia's bicep and stroked her arm gently. "I could've left you to kill yourself and had my way with Alistair..._ But I love you_..."

Ophelia puffed out through welded teeth, "_My...head...hurts..._"

Anxious, Morrigan attempted to inspect her, "Ophelia...?"

But to no avail... The tanned woman's hands were clamped to her head and effectively hiding her face. She was suddenly sweating and breathing rampantly and growing hot to the touch.

_"Ophelia?"_

Then she slid and fainted against the wooden door and Morrigan struggled to keep her upright.

_"Ophelia!"_

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"You Stole" by Brand New

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for The Lightning Strike<strong>

**geler7**: Yup, Morrigan can keep her sane. Although I'll be revealing the mechanics of how Ophelia's mind really works next chapter. :D And cool! I seem to make some readers like characters they initially hate. I'm so glad you think of my writing as that way! I'm flattered. And jizz... Don't ever expect one thing or another. I don't think anyone would expect what's coming. Thanks for rating! :D

**lunavixen**: Haha. Okay. How's this chapter for ya? :D Oh, and you didn't answer any A/N questions! xD

**Lord Tubbington**: Whaat? You want a happy ending? But tragic endings are way more fun. Anyway, I'll mostly be replying to your other responses in my A/N.

**AD Lewis**: Yea. I love Snow Patrol but I thought they were quite popular so, at first, didn't want to use their song. But it fits so perfectly. And cool! Bi guy. That's a rare demographic for me, I think. xD

**EmbertoInferno**: She made contact with it when she was around 10. Notice how I said contact and neither possessed nor merged. EHEHE. New reader? Anyway, thanks for reading! :D

**knives4cash**: Thank you so much! I'm very happy to hear how much people like my stories! It makes my days! And yea... I need to write more about Shale and Nutella sometime too. Too many characters. xP

**Moral Attention**: You're in luck! Morrigan didn't get to sleep with Alistair! Yet? AHAHA. I'm evil. I did that on purpose. Short and sweet. I think. Everyone waited a whole chapter to find out what happened to Morrigan so I just gave it to them without any bullshet. Hehe. This one's way too long. Haha.

**Dalish Elf**: Better practice those lungs! Because there's a bit more intensity coming! HEHE. And wow! Movie worthy? How I wished my stories could be made into a movie even if they're off someone's lore. That'd be amazing. And yes! I know! But you guys were so eager to know what happened to Morrigan! Lol. Anyway, thanks so much for the lovely compliments!

**LunarOphelia13**: Waa! No! Don't go! Anyway, Ga-Rei's one of my favorites. I even made amvs of it when I used to do that. XD

**Bonobo**: How's the fluff for this chapter? I wrote it just for you. Lol. Jk. But yea.

**Chelsinator07**: Ooooh. Nice song. I would've used it for this chapter if I wasn't so determined to use Brand New. xD Thanks for reading my stories! Always a pleasure to hear new readers reading and enjoying it!

Thanks for the compliments, ratings, and reviews everyone! Review again please.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for the wait. I was on vacation for 2+ weeks so this was done all in the iPhone. And I should say... This needs to be edited still. Terribly.

I'm surprised the chapter where Morrigan breaks off with Ophelia is people's most favorite. I would definitely have to top that chapter then, somehow...

My own stories makes me sad. If I could have a life half as romantic as this one... My life is fulfilled!

So questions for this chapter... Do you still think I would make Morrigan sleep with Alistair? What's your favorite funny scene in all my stories? And how come no one reviewed they're a straight girl! Stop lurking! I know you're out there! XD

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	20. Chapter 20 Lofticries

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_Minor Edit: April 10th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 20 - <strong>Lofticries<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Bring, bring the thunder,<em>  
><em>And the loud, loud rain,<em>  
><em>Lead our woes asunder,<em>  
><em>'Neath the proud, proud veins.<em>

_Of traits that bleed the gunmen,_  
><em>Of our pumping, earthly hearts,<em>  
><em>Ween our joys in plunder,<em>  
><em>Feel our shining teeth,<em>  
><em>Bet our hold on happiness.<em>

[**NSFW**]

Haze over beige.

Blur over ruffle.

Saccharine inside.

Spinning in a spacial existence.

Like an invitation to the Golden City.

An infantile, Ophelia soared with the pleasurable pressure oscillating inside her head.

She was adrift, unbeknownst how she was carried by the tides.

Not that she cared to wake up.

Until a curious sound seeped into her cognizance.

The sound was like lips enveloping lime for its juice.

It was fleeting but it was enough to perplex her that she opened her eyes – really opened her eyes.

Strangely, the bliss persisted and she panted, rolling her eyes to focus on the copper embossed ceiling.

"_Mmm_..." Her sigh was not vocalized.

She gradually tilted her head to normal and was reminded of the intricately designed beige wallpapers and sheer ruffles of bed curtains.

Then the next thing she saw immediately stunned her. Stunned her so much, she couldn't say a word.

Not that she actually could.

"_MMRRGNN?!_" she exclaimed, her voice muffled.

The woman she attempted to question was bobbing her head up and down at a leisurely pace...

"_NNM–MRRGHHN!_"

...At a leisurely pace over her groin, and what seems to be the part of a man...

Somehow on her.

Morrigan heard her cry and beheld her with concern, drawing gradually upwards to pause her ministration. "Ophelia..." she christened.

"_NNNMMMM!_" Ophelia fought, but only managed to struggle against the restraints. Her mouth was gagged by fabric and her limbs were tied securely on the hefty chair she sat on. She was far from the walls, facing her bed, and adjacent to the fireplace.

Morrigan had a slight delightful expression as she reached for a balled fist and stroked it soothingly, "Relax, my love." She then brought her hand down and stroked her – with two fingers and a thumb lightly cinching at the summit, to be precise. "It feels good, does it not?"

Ophelia couldn't fathom the instance – the witch was stroking something that wasn't hers – couldn't possibly be hers – and yet it did feel good. "_Nnrrmmmm_..." Her eyelids collapsed shut.

With that response, Morrigan shifted a tad from her knelt down position on the floor and, for five seconds, pored over the shaft which pulsed faintly. Elated of what was inspected, she then slipped her tongue out and trailed it tantalizingly from the base, past a vein, past a fleshy ridge, then circled onto the tip. "You are pleasant..." she complimented in between planting a peck on the sensitive muscle, "To the smell and taste." She was warily glanced at, so she shot a more devilish gleam before resuming her tongue's journey to coat every centimeter of her length with saliva.

"_Mmrrmm!_" The chair budged backwards as Ophelia did.

Morrigan had encased her girth within her mouth and bobbed her head gradually once again. The couple of inches not in her mouth, she compensated for with her hand.

"_NNGGHHMM!_" Ophelia writhed, not merely for the plaguing new sensation but for her disapproval of it.

Finding it futile shortly afterwards, she practiced to repress herself for a duration of a minute or two, solely breathing as the temptress rose and fell in a passionate tandem. Should she get distracted, she relied on the lavish decorations of her bedroom to be the rein of her attention. Lavish decorations such as...

The Orlesian rug with detailed trimmings of florals, plumes, and a supreme rooster.

The warm painting portraying the romantic scenery of a creek-side landscape.

The long velvet draperies contiguous to an estate-sized window.

The – And then all of a sudden, Morrigan withdrew. Lips blooming and cheeks blushing, she murmured like a desperate prayer, "_Ophelia..._" And just as quick as the pleading yet licentious gaze, she delved back below. Though this time – she forced everything inside.

"_NNGGHHH!_" Ophelia's head was involuntarily thrown rearwards as she was plunged into absolute paradise – repeatedly hitting a slick and warm cushion and being engulfed inside.

Morrigan had taken her into her throat like it was as effortless as imbibing wine and reveling in its burn, ignoring if she had been driveling saliva. She had started languid, measuring her size, and when she was satisfied, she mercilessly reaped her – rising to brace against the quivering thighs to have her neck bent for a perfect passage.

_Stooping with so much fervor..._

"_MM–NNM–MNNM...!_" It didn't take long before Ophelia embedded her nails into her own palm and collided into rapture. "_MMHHRRMM!_"

"_Mmff~haa––!_" Astounded by the vigorous spurting, Morrigan hesitated in swallowing the whole volume and drew back. She coughed a bit then hurriedly licked her lover's remaining release, catching every drip on the supple roseate crest.

Plundered and overthrown, Ophelia breathed heavily like she had just pilgrimaged up a large mountain, lungs under fire and eyes glazed in reverie.

"'Tis real..." Hands still admiring the persevering erection, Morrigan smiled to herself then to Ophelia, delighted that she had finally been able to grant the typically noiseless rogue a brain-splitting climax. "Unbelievable..."

"_Mmmrrrmmm..._" Ophelia gazed at her with beseeching platinum orbs. She dreadfully dissented the role compelled on her and felt helpless, bound by durable ropes on every major joint of her limbs. Oddly, she was kept clothed and her pants were unbuttoned just enough – her glistening member soloing the firelight spotlight.

"Forgive me, you must be bound. You warned me about this self-denial, yourself," Morrigan sympathized with a graze of her hand on her thigh.

Then like a sleek serpentine, she stood rigidly and shed the lower half of her outfit in a smooth and slender motion, not wasting too much time in unfastening her belts and removing her skirt, pants, and shoes.

"But this..." she continued where she left off, pressing a beleaguering index on the tiny hole for emphasis.

At the contact, they shared a peculiar rivet, resolute gold versus indomitable diamonds – though, they didn't seem that indomitable when Morrigan pushed against her breadth, straddled only her lap, then enticed, "Is something you wanted. Whether you admit it or not." Setting her hand on a tensed shoulder, she murmured to an ear, "The idea might repulse you now... But you _will_ enjoy it." Her lips tickled; her breath titillated. "_I will change your mind._"

Ophelia gulped uneasily and averted her eyes to the side as Morrigan lifted her legs then bent them in front of her, allowing for a better view.

"_Look at me, Ophelia,_" the sorceress demanded, cupping her cheek and turning it to her liking.

Ophelia had obliged but her gaze couldn't be pried from the side.

Yet even without looking, she could sense the lascivious smirk forming – the lascivious smirk Morrigan always sported when she domineered.

"_Watch_," the seductress advised then flattened her loftiness, her moisture seeping through her panty as she did, "_as I begin_," she arched her pelvis, parted the impeding garment, then gently rubbed herself, "_to cry for you_..."

Not to be disgraced anymore, Ophelia strove not to picture what was occurring over her hip, plastering her sights on the flames that rustled some feet away from them.

For minutes, she brooded.

_She couldn't be..._

_How could she have...?_

_Why did it feel so good?_

The sounds became livelier that it breached her conscience and she indefinitely cringed.

_They were slippery and too familiar._

As if that wasn't enough, a pint of thicker fluid trespassed down unto her.

"_Mm~aaanh..._" Morrigan didn't stifle.

With that crisp vocalization, Ophelia's eyes were accidentally ensnared.

Comfortably reclined rearwards with a fair-skin hand to a tanned knee, Morrigan had been sliding two rhythmic digits into herself, mouth agape and somewhat shivering in management of her mounting ecstasy.

"_Mmm–aaah–haanh..._" she imparted eventually, batting her eyelashes before eyeing Ophelia hungrily.

The immobilized scoundrel was hopelessly strung and could no longer steer away from the raunchy display.

That was... Until it desisted.

Morrigan had identified Ophelia's growing interest – the depth of her intrigue in great accordance with the depth of her growing hardness.

Ophelia's eyes broadened as the insatiable minx ground against her without address, her shaft becoming wedged beneath her womanhood.

Morrigan wrapped her arms around Ophelia's shoulders, closing their gap. "_You're perfect..._" she observed from below. Then nose to nose, she smiled, sealing her eyes to savor, "_Mmmmm..._"

Back and forth, their dampness mingled – coalescing sticky and residue.

Ophelia calmly scrutinized the brunette as her flushed visage made small salacious contortions after every firm traction.

_Her raw passion._

_She was so beautiful. It was ineffable._

"_Annh~!_" Their corresponding bulbs bumped lushly against each other that Morrigan lost her composure.

Her eyes shot open and she discovered the blonde dissecting her with concupiscent eyes...

So she dug her pelvis even more and gasped shakily, "_Hnaa~Ophelia...do you...like it? Hmm~mm?_"

Awakened by the question, Ophelia instantly shook her head in humiliation, "_Nnnmmm...!_"

"Why do you look away?" Morrigan held her chin and raised it, "Do not be ashamed. This is your body," she admonished quite strictly.

Ophelia retained an embarrassed expression, brows scrunched anxiously but eyes glossy with secret need.

Acknowledging her guilt, Morrigan simply embraced her, reposing her forehead against her neck.

Then she resumed her gyration, twice as exuberant than before – the chair nudging backwards bit by bit.

_She could probably serve a potent headbutt and knock her off the seat._

_But in the end, what good would it do?_

_She would probably continue at any rate._

_Besides…_

_She loved her._

"_I-Incredible..._" Morrigan bit her lip then impulsively proclaimed against an ear, "I can't endure it any longer. I want you _now_."

Ophelia froze at the words but before she could argue, her delicate crown was already being enveloped by dewy folds.

_They were about to fuck._

"_Mmmmmmm~_" Morrigan hummed while she very tenderly descended down – as if the Grey Warden would otherwise break like fragile glass. "_Anh...!_" she moaned with blithe after she had hit the hilt.

"_Nnrrm..._" Ophelia trembled, basking reluctantly in the euphoria that poured down on her.

_Tenacious suns softening..._

_Creamy skin sweltering..._

_If the Golden City was real..._

In only under a minute, Morrigan was heaving up and down with two hands behind her, using them as leverage and ladling more of the ambrosial length inside her. "_Hanh–Ophelia you––_"

_But even if this wasn't it..._

"_Y-You're growing even more inside of me_," Morrigan tossed her head back, delirious, "_Annh~haanh–!_"

_She wouldn't mind staying here..._

"_Haa–ANHH!_" Morrigan wailed louder – unexpectedly hoisted higher and struck somewhere more galvanizing. "_Oph~elia...?_" she peered, baffled by what happened.

Countenance stolid, the rogue ogled her body like a vicious predator waiting for its prey.

In spite of that, Morrigan took the bait willingly, leaning in and undoing the knot behind her head.

When the fabric loosened, Ophelia readily spoke, "_Is this_..." She tarried not a second later and thrusted upwards.

"_Ha~nh!_" It squelched deliciously and Morrigan practically leapt for her.

"_What you wanted?_" Ophelia droned, pulling carefully out just 'til her peak dawdled inside...

Then plunging roughly back in.

"_Aannhh-nnyess!_" Morrigan approved in jubilee, clinching the blonde head and eagerly meeting every boost she sent, "_Yess~anh–haanh–anh..._"

They decelerated and she shuddered, "_I'm..._"

But it was only to accumulate her strength, relentlessly regaining their speed for her glee. "_NGAAH~I'M COMING!_"

"_Nnghh...!_" Ophelia flinched as Morrigan seized her neck and sunk her teeth into it, muffling her outcry.

Fervid walls clamped encumberingly down on Ophelia but it frightened her of the consequences and urgently scrunched her eyes shut, concentrating on withstanding the sweet torture.

She was like a lost child found, tightly clinging to her with:

pining hands,

wobbly legs,

and weepy lungs.

"_Ophelia..._" Morrigan emerged from her daze after a minute and promptly tended to the shallow bite by cleaning it with her tongue. "_I love you..._"

The words flew out like uncaged doves.

Subsequently, she roved lower and lapped randomly at her chest, spontaneously tearing the charcoal shirt to dab her nipple three times.

"I'm changed..." Ophelia proclaimed her woe before the apostate could go further and naturally enchant her. "I'm no longer a woman..."

As if offended, Morrigan reproached, "Yes you are..." She straightened her posture then snaked her fingers through her flaxen hair caringly, "This is temporary," she ascertained, eyes locked zealously with hers.

Whilst adoring her features, she remembered her neglected anthracite lips and captured them.

Forever liable to kissing, Ophelia pivoted her head and accepted the invitation, darting her tongue in as soon as their mouths fell ajar.

_A simpler act but... Sublime._

Unfortunately, she throbbed diminutively underneath and it zapped her back to life, ceasing their amorous orifice dance.

Startled, Morrigan regarded her inquisitively, yet inwardly perceptive of why.

Ophelia recollected her train of thought and probed pensively, "How did this happen?"

Understanding where her disappointment derived from, Morrigan began to elucidate, relaxing over her groin but not dismounting, "You taught me this. You were yourself... But different." She was stern and earnest as she trickled fingers on her face affectionately, "You told me of magic that would change you... For a time."

Ophelia inclined to her touch. "Blood magic..."

Morrigan admitted with some apprehension, "Yes... Only possible with a host possessing nondescript... Demonic qualities such as yours," but then she unveiled with some fascination, "Strangely, when you persuaded me, you were exactly as you are now. You were not hostile but you spoke of wisdom so elusive..." She stirred her hips teasingly to point out, "And you wished _this_."

Although to her disappointment, it provoked the opposite reaction as Ophelia asserted, "She wants to live... She wants to thrive!" Trying not to strain herself against the ropes, she implicated with objecting eyes, "Who can imagine what could be passed on with... Whatever came out of this thing?!"

Morrigan placed her hands on her sides and rebuked, "You are ignorant of your own self. You think you have two separate minds but you are one. Do not value your life so lowly. You are capable of doing many things that can inevitably change the world. Why deny all these opportunities that has been given to you?" Her voice palliated but she was just as coercive, "To do this – to conceive this child – and survive is what you truly want..."

"No... It can't be..." Ophelia ruminated, head drooping, "If I am insane, how can you say that that is what I really want?"

Morrigan upheld her by the chin once more and disclosed rather protectively, "You are you, regardless. And I wholeheartedly believe that you wish to have a child of your own."

"So then... You believe that I also wished to kill you back in Denerim?" Ophelia intoned timidly.

Morrigan sighed, embittered by her embitterment. "No. You were unreasonably insane then – madness, caused by intolerable grief, physical pain, and a fragile mentality. But just now, you were not. This I know." She cohered their eyes together as she continued to expound thoroughly, "Imagine your mind having a scale: your temperament weighed on the left and the right: your insanity. In moments you encounter overwhelming pain: physically, mentally, emotionally; the left is burdened and lowers. But the mind must balance and so the right must gain more weight, thus increasing your insanity. And that insanity, at most, was a product of your self-denial. You battle the 'malevolent you' to keep your benevolence – when, in fact, there is no other you. There is no separation. The demon and you make a whole. You have one mind, one self. You simply have not learned to accept who you are and so it muddles your mind. Strictly speaking, your demonic abilities–"

"Are not a part of the scale and can manifest itself whenever it pleases," Ophelia finished, understanding the concept.

Morrigan nodded contentedly yet corrected, "Whenever _you_ please, hence your seemingly sane self at present despite your current supernatural condition. The only reason it is more apparent when you are insane is because you are completely playing that opposite character you have snubbed for years. Should you accept who you are, I assume that there need not be a scale and you will be free to utilize your abilities as you please."

Ophelia scoffed doubtfully, "Then who I really am would cause harm whenever the whim strikes me."

Morrigan disagreed, "Not blindly, if you mature as your true self and begin to repress those urges..." She then combed through Ophelia's hair soothingly twice or thrice then begged with hopeful aureate eyes, "_Please..._ This could be your only chance to have a child and 'twould be a fruit of our love."

Conviction composed of adamantine, Ophelia failed to yield, "This whole ordeal is outrageous. _First_ – the ritual. And now this... T-this _phallus_!" she spat in disgust then directly diverted her lips away when cerise ones threatened to trap them, "Don't..."

Not to be discouraged, Morrigan kissed her temple instead and allured in the midst of allotting more to the side of her face, "I asked you... Why couldn't we finish quickly...? Ensuring that the child is conceived...?"

Migrating to her neck, she faltered and unfastened the rest of her chiffon top's buttons instead.

"You said you wanted to prolong this as much as we could."

While her forehead was glued to the tanner cheek, she fully exposed her smaller breasts.

"You instructed me to bound you to this chair, in case you instantly deter from your true desire."

Then she exposed her navel.

"I began fellatio and you were completely still and quiet. Then somehow, in around two minutes, your silence was replaced by irritability."

Then she traced her fingers over invisible scars like winding roads on a map.

_Remarkable... She was absolutely flawless once again._

"I see. So now you like negotiating with demons?" Ophelia disrupted her reverence.

Appalled by the preemptive, Morrigan confessed forthwith, "I am guilty of that, yes..." Then she sensibly defended, "But you are different and I cannot ignore this..." She stroked her cheek in vexation of her last remonstrant, "_Please..._ Do not ask anymore questions. Just think of the love we could make..."

"And if I refuse to come inside of you?" Ophelia challenged, emotionless.

Though Morrigan didn't buy it – if their incredibly gratifying fornication moments ago wasn't sufficient evidence.

"You will," she stated. And with their profiles adjoining, she enamored, "After your initiative and those coveting eyes... I am certain. So certain... _I will untie you_."

"And what if I overpower you after you set me loose?"

"You may have swayed countless people with those silver eyes and tongue. But I have traveled in your mind more than twice..." Her words were piquant like spice as she hooked an averring finger to a unique black lace then purred, "And the ring, _tells me everything_..."

Ophelia bided like she had been paralyzed with a spell, hands and feet stuck to the armrest and carpet respectively as the enchantress dismounted her and began to do what she had promised.

_What a bluff. The ring couldn't have told her everything that she, herself, was tentative of. Could she?_

_How bothersome the indication that she was ignorant of her own self._

It was only when the last rope hit the ground that her fingers twitched and triggered her to haul the brunette back to her lap.

Thereafter, Morrigan expeditiously assisted her in disposal of her own violaceous blouse and unhooking of her numerous necklaces.

It would've been a meticulous task, if not for their combined dexterity and alacrity.

When the hindering metals clanked on the floor, Ophelia conquered her favorite domain on Morrigan's neck, simultaneously undoing her hair bun to diffuse an aroma relevant to her liking. She consumed ample time on her neck then each of her breasts, teasing them before fondling them with her rapacious hands and mouth.

If Morrigan estimated the minutes that passed with her scrambling to supervise on the armchair – it would've been under thirty seconds – thanks to the tan hands embedding on her rear, hefting her up then briskly nestling her on a neighboring loveseat.

Ophelia knelt on the floor and before Morrigan's spread legs and rubbed frustratingly against her as she resumed assault on her voluptuous bosom – then eventually her slim stomach and further downwards.

When the scoundrel removed her panties and slithered a tongue from her knee down to her inner thigh, Morrigan alertly steadied herself, ardently clutching the throw pillows behind her.

With one leg over her shoulder, Ophelia gorged her essence like she was the last and pulpiest peach – indulging in its decadence yet prolonging the privilege like it was never to be had again.

For five minutes, she pinched, tickled, and even pancaked her swollen nub with her lips and tongue – but completely shunned the screaming, contracting muscles a centimeter below.

"_hnnh–anh...haa...opheliaah_..." Morrigan murmured partially to a pillow, legs taut and jittering.

Then just with that, Ophelia grinned and roused up, rejecting the witch's glistering need.

Brandishing her pride and glory so closely like a badgering bastard, she dared to report, "Damn... I have these things too..."

_A badgering bastard, indeed_ – Morrigan half-peered, half-glared and blurted impatiently, "'Tis necessary..."

"But where did it come from?" Ophelia jiggled it and quizzed, dumbed back to elementary.

"Your own flesh and blood, no less," Morrigan answered as if it was the most obvious thing.

"But how would this even work if I don't have a deep voice and hairy pits? I mean, don't I need have those t–"

Morrigan snapped, "_Ugh_! For the sake of the great juju up the mountain – _shut up_!" then with her arms and legs, she furiously reeled the blonde head for another air-depriving kiss.

Ophelia inwardly snickered then nurtured the friction beneath like it was a newborn infant, delicately building the tension surging inside them.

She breathed only her; she felt only her; she tasted only her; like underwater, she was immersed in only her, blocking everything else from her senses and discerning only her lover and her desire.

_Her light shivers and goosebumps._

_Her possessive half-biting, half-smothering mouth._

_Her clingy arms and legs._

_Her wetness and urgency._

_How could she even decline?_

"I think..." Ophelia muttered abruptly, breaking the kiss.

Morrigan's irascibility sliced like a knife, "You're still thinking...?"

"I think I want to do this. I do. I want make you happy. And the thought of you carrying my child is..." Ophelia blinked a few times for the proper word, "Indescribable," then she gulped and pondered apprehensively, "But Morrigan..."

"Spit it."

"You must swear to me that you won't leave." Her forehead creased with many crinkles and her eyes became watery as she implored, "_Please..._ I beg you... _Stay with me._ Don't leave." She aligned her visage with hers, their profiles like the silhouette of smooth canyon walls illuminated by the sunset's vibrance. "_I love you..._"

Morrigan gawped blankly, cowering in remorse for something that hasn't even been committed.

"Ophelia,_ I..._" she flickered her eyelids then glanced at the dangling rosewood ring she had given her.

_To manipulate lust in her favor..._

She inhaled sharply to profess, "I won't leave..."

"Swear it."

"I swear..." she claimed the sides of her face and also claimed definitively, "I _won't_ leave."

They exchanged such hearty smiles that Ophelia could've hovered out of her body if she didn't crave it so badly to be inside the mage.

Then with a small retreating motion, Morrigan recognized what was next and prepared herself, widening her legs and staring directly into the Grey Warden's eyes in whole support.

Ophelia aimed the muscle without the guidance of her fingers and, thusly, missed the mark.

But Morrigan knew better and predicted the following poke, catching it easily with her slippery folds.

"_hnnhh..._" she winced in excitement. And with her mouth agape, she licked her lips as gradually as she encased her heat.

Ophelia entered her and she was welcomed like an important visitor, her every need prioritized and catered to.

It was home.

"_hnn–anh..._" Morrigan bit her lip, attaining her lover's maximum. She wriggled a little to accompany her comfortably, then asked to make sure, "How does it feel?"

"Warm... Connected..." Ophelia rested her forehead against hers. "Something sacred united as one... You?"

"Fulfilled... I feel as though you're caressing me inside..." Morrigan fastened her hands around her neck and conveyed very low, almost merely mouthing, "_Love me, Ophelia..._"

Ophelia was only too happy to oblige, propping both her hands on the sofa and starting their pace with a slow rhythm.

Morrigan was soundless, though with lips tastefully parted. She shuffled between ogling the sovereign diamonds, their slippery convergence, and the pendulous ring.

"_Nn~aanh––!_"

That pattern broke when Ophelia randomly added a scooping movement to her thrusts, her length sloping inside her and colliding with the spot she had mapped before.

Morrigan's eyes squeezed instinctively from surprise then she hastily reached up and ensnared Ophelia's mouth to silence herself.

She endeavored to be quiet – solely the succulent sound of their wet skins slapping mushily against each other evident in her ears – but Ophelia drove faster into her with every ticking minute and she had to jerk her head after the third.

"_Nmmm––AHH! Anh~anh~hhanh–––_" The moans were high-pitched, turbulent, and purely imitative of her wanton wish. At the same time, her fingers crumpled at her shirt and scratched at her back as she began to rock her hips, beckoning for more and more.

Ophelia upped the tempo, grasping the temptress' erratic behind. "_Nnghhaa...tiiight..._" she cringed and panted breathily, her width becoming too constricted that her layer was being tugged considerably.

The combination of pillows for a backrest plus the sofa's cushion and altitude supplied an opposing pressure and intensified the angle, hitting the mark rapidly and with ease.

"_Haannhh–-!_" Morrigan insuppressibly cinched the rogue's waist with her legs.

Powerless to the lure of her lewd whimpers, Ophelia mustered her libido and pummeled into her vivaciously, "_Nnnhh–You–feel...so~mmunnhh!_" she groaned.

Morrigan squirmed, her toes curling and her legs quaking, "_Oh-phee...LIAAH!_" Her head thrashed from one side to the other. "_I–I~Love...You––AANH~_!"

Ophelia ceased for a moment as her thickness was quenched beyond movement then drenched with substantial fluid.

All the while, she marveled at her attractive convulsions.

_Her flushed, crinkling eyes._

_Her desperate, gaping mouth._

_Her hectically palpitating chest._

Ophelia couldn't restrain herself anymore and nipped at a perked carnation nipple then groped a breast and abrasively restarted her onslaught.

"_Uuhnnh..._!" Morrigan expressed through gritted teeth, "_Y-you're throbbing...mmnh_!"

With the overflowing lubrication, Ophelia leaned forward and exhausted her strength, holding her lover in a resolute rivet as she warned, "_Morrigan–! I...I can't–––!_"

Refusing to vocalize whilst slower pumps, her entire body quivered weakly like the subtle vibrations of a bell that was rung.

"_Come... My love..._"

Her eyes watered as she gazed blankly at the one who called.

"_Come inside me!_"

Just as she relinquished her seed without flinching – a gracious tear trickled down her cheek.

It twinkled then glimmered a single line, dividing her mien asymmetrically.

Morrigan was speechless, strangely mesmerized by something fragile.

Somehow, it brought her back to the Wilds, fascinated by a leaf that fell off a high tree.

This time, however, she chose to catch it.

Pressing a finger on the cheek which cradled the tear, she wondered, "Of happiness or shame?"

Ophelia was still distant for a second, but then, as if a joke, she puffed out a brief air of amusement, "Happiness." She rendered a faint chuckle from the mage then merrily bundled her in her arms.

Utterly grateful, Morrigan stuck her nose in the silky blonde tresses and inhaled, "_Thank you_... Now, I feel bound to you... _Forever_." She roved her hands up and down under her blouse devotedly.

Ophelia heard but didn't reply; too lost in their meshing chests and syncing heartbeats.

_If she didn't mind dying before, then she shouldn't mind dying now – but the thought of having a child with the woman she loved changed everything._

_This was how it was meant to be..._

_It had to be._

After a minute of just the sound of crackling fire, the sofa squeaked as Morrigan stirred, hands ceasing their promenade.

Concerned, Ophelia bent upwards to face her, eyebrow slanting, "Bored already?"

Morrigan giggled playfully, tracing her collarbone, "_Yes_." There was a flash of wicked prurience in her cat eyes as she donned on a lecherous grin then forcibly flipped them over. "Stay there..." she commanded uncompromisingly then stood upright, red orange outlining her nude frame in a captivating splendor.

Ophelia sprawled leisurely on the couch, beaming like a kid waiting to blow the candles and chow down her birthday cake.

She was absolutely ecstatic and discarded her long-sleeves as her panties and trousers were peeled off of her in precisely two seconds – but then her left leg was picked up and extended over a shoulder, her tan ankle placed next to a fair-skin cheek. And she was a tad shocked. "_What are you–?!_"

Morrigan shushed her by imparting solid pecks on her calve then speedily wielding the surviving phallus and slipping it in her so simply without any warning like a horny animal. "_Hhmhh~mhaa..._" She hugged the leg and provided no rest, instantly pushing, pulling, and grinding without any restraint. "_Y-you just came!_" She remarked the stiffness which didn't dwindle. "_Your stamina...anh–amazing!_"

"Yea..." Ophelia deadpanned, "That's...me..." she twisted her torso and enhanced her flexibility, her fingers digging into the pillows as she was ridden overdrive. "_Ungh...! This–is–! Nggah–ahh...you'll~kill~me!_"

In direct response, a more vociferous slap echoed in the room.

_Who was she kidding? The woman was a Witch of the Wilds._

[-]

_Bead-weighted chests with lofticries,_  
><em>Lofticries with trembling thighs,<em>  
><em>Weepy chests with weepy sighs,<em>  
><em>Weepy skin with trembling thighs.<em>

[-]

The night was young and they exerted every single second, doing the deed without respite...

In front of the mirror and on the same armchair with Morrigan on top and suggestively reflected.

By the dresser with her bent over and hands braced on the ledge.

On the floor, spooning with one leg held high.

Against the wall with both legs off the ground.

And finally doing it on the bed...

Ophelia laced their fingers. "_Please...mnm–mmnnmm–unhh~say it..._"

Face and neck embellished with desire, Morrigan could only mewl, "_aan–annh~hanh!_"

Nearly everywhere they blushed and touched, their sweat transfused.

"_Hhnnh–hnnh–nnmm–sayit––!_" Locks of blonde hair and the ring-necklace hung low, bridging them together where they didn't embrace.

Morrigan still couldn't say it but stayed diaphanous for those yearning ears. "_Haaa–aaannh!_"

"_Say...!_"

She fought against the orgasm.

"_oppheliaa...nngggg–AAANHH~!_"

Yet erupted eventually.

Tears of joy driveled down her nether lips then seeped unto the sheets.

That was when Ophelia looked at her expectantly and the enervated witch ultimately whispered, "_I love you..._"

[**/NSFW**]

_You must be hovering over yourself,_  
><em>Watching us trip on each other's sides,<em>  
><em>Dear brother, collect all the liquids off of the floor,<em>  
><em>Use your oily fingers,<em>  
><em>Make a paste, let it form.<em>

_Let it seep through your sockets and earholes,_  
><em>Into your precious, fractured skull,<em>  
><em>Let it seep, let it keep you from us,<em>  
><em>Patiently heal you,<em>  
><em>Patiently unreel you.<em>

_Bead-weighted chests with lofticries,_  
><em>Lofticries with trembling thighs,<em>  
><em>Weepy chests with weepy sighs,<em>  
><em>Weepy skin with trembling thighs.<em>

[-]

The skies burned in crimson and coal, swirling clouds like stirred muck and crackling lightning like quick erosion.

Below, the city of Denerim bathed in blood, people and darkspawn massacring each other to determine the inevitable ending of the Fifth Blight.

A band of darkspawn bashing through a locked house; multiple villagers scrambling for escape; a Dalish archer bellowing for assistance; shrieks mangling a heedless mage; a hurlock emissary tumbling down the stairs after receiving a headshot; drakes clawing at defensive warriors; dwarves confronting ogres ten times their size.

In other words, it was a hectic sight.

_GRRAAAAAARR!_

The only being capable of such thunderous exclamation roared at the pinnacle of a tower, resounding it far and wide in the manner of a distress signal.

An hour ago, Riordan had sacrificed himself in a risked effort to defeat the mighty and colossal archdemon, climbing it while it flew, but solely managing to disable its ability to take flight, then plummeting to his death.

Thusly, the creature remained atop the roof of Fort Drakon where it last landed, sweeping clustered soldiers off the ledge with its wings – but at one of its greatest extensions, a ballista arrow was fired, accurately piercing the right wing and pinning it to the ground with a deafening crash.

The heedless draconic monster screamed in agony, flapping its other wing and scuffling hysterically in an effort to remove or rip off its incapacitated wing.

To the creature's further misfortune, the particular Grey Warden who strategized everything started sprinting to its direction to deliver its demise.

Stainless steel eyes; satin blonde pony tail; obsidian lips. Ophelia could sense the adrenaline flow gloriously through her veins as she darted through malodorous smoke and hopped over a mutilated genlock, zooming in on her destiny.

Deeming it perfect, she snatched a longsword off the ground and flourished it with grace.

When she approached the archdemon's range, it growled and tried to swipe her with its left wing.

She dropped to the floor and hugged the grime, a mere gust of air grazing her after the humungous limb missed her by a fraction.

The second she got on her feet, another appendage attempted to strike her. Reflexive, she rolled diagonally to a side, dodging its prickly tail which smashed the marble stone she leapt from.

Taking advantage of its sluggish recovery, she darted more toward its middle and instigated the most pertinent reaction.

The dragon stretched its long neck and towered over her, its unfolding scales magnifying its ferocity. Achieving suitable height, it dove its head in a slender arch and breathed fire.

She calculated her bearing then knew – just knew from intuition – that she could stomp on both feet and spring a dozen feet high.

The conflagration subsided and she speared its neck very near to its head with her blade, latching on to it while it growled and swayed for release.

Headstrong, Ophelia estimated the velocity of its swings and timed her release, propelling herself skywards just enough – enough to use gravity and artfully reclaim the sword to ram it deeper.

Spraying the rogue with rouge, the archdemon snarled and whirred its head even more as a last resort. But too wounded to persist, it reverberated an anguished noise then dramatically collapsed with a vociferous thud.

The powerful tremor spanned allover the rooftop, grabbing everyone's urgent attention – especially Morrigan's.

At that instant, the witch abandoned the spell she was about to cast and focused on the scene unraveling before her.

In just six seconds, a beam of blinding white light split the horizon and blended with the clouds up above.

Tracing the narrow luminance's root a hundred yards away from her, she could distinguish Ophelia as a blanched amalgamation, holding the sword instilled on the archdemon.

[-]

_You must be hovering over yourself,_  
><em>Watching us trip on each other's sides,<em>  
><em>Dear brother, collect all the liquids off of the floor,<em>  
><em>Use your oily fingers,<em>  
><em>Pick up paste, let it form.<em>

_Bead-weighted chests with lofticries,_  
><em>Lofticries with trembling thighs,<em>  
><em>Weepy chests with weepy sighs,<em>  
><em>Weepy skin with trembling thighs.<em>

_You must be hovering over yourself,_  
><em>Watching us trip on each other's sides.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Lofticries" by Purity Ring

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for You Stole<strong>

**geler7**: Oh... Stop flattering me. I try my best to write the characters like how the creator would write them but I think the dialog can be a bit better. But thanks so much for thinking so! S2 And same with you reviewers. Every time I get a review like yours, I feel all giddy inside. XD Hehe. You mean she enchanted him? I've thought of that but I personally think Alistair is submissive enough and Morrigan is beguiling enough to seduce him without the use of spells, given the right circumstances. So how's this happening for ya? And mmm... Isabela... XD You're very welcome! Thanks for being such a cute supporter! :D

**knives4cash**: Yup. How's this content for ya? XD And thanks!

**Sarion**: 17: Haha. Congratulations! Happy to have you guys back! ;) And best chapter out of any story you've read? Seeing how you're an old member, that's a very flattering compliment! Thank you! And that might be because Moira and Ophelia are both my own original characters and so is their plot. I don't have a complete story for them in my head right now but I have a general sense of what I want. With enough interest, I could do a spinoff. :D As for the ending... I get what you mean. It is supposed to be hazy but not too hazy where you just feel like you're reading text. We can work it out if you help me edit. :D

18: You're right about the movie thing. I write as how I imagine it in my head. And how I imagine it is much like a movie or even an anime or a game scene. I think I (or we) can rewrite that part to make it easier to envision. And don't worry. With enough interest, I'll be writing the sequel. I feel the same way about movies and such. It's that bittersweet feeling that makes it memorable though. If it's too happy, it's easier to forget. For me, anyway. XD Hehe. Straight guys are cool too. ;D There must be something about femslash stories that's touching, eh? Maybe it's the non-penetrative sex... Which I've completely obliterated with this chapter. Lool.

19: Well, I gotta keep you guys hooked till the end. Just to make sure. Uhuhu. And idk where I took the idea of mound from. I know I read it in a femslash story. Too lazy to figure out which one it is in my faves. Would you rather I used cunt? XD I gotta think of more words to use. And of course! It's a love-hate relationship! There's plenty of fighting. And even in reality, I think that's what makes couples stronger. It's just recently in this generation that people give up really easily and get divorces and such. Still interested in Ophelia now? LOLOL. But I hope so. It's a retractable penis. You can still do her if she lets you. Oh jizzuz. You don't need to tell me. I would kill for love like that. xD But you know... If I was in love with someone right now, I wouldn't have the desire to write this story. I think it's that desire that fuels me.

Gosh, I can't thank you enough for all the wonderful compliments and advise you give me. S2S2S2

**Lord Tubbington**: Mabari pups and a baby?! That sounds ultra fantastic! XD But sorry, not in my story. MUAHAHA. And 6?! You like stroking my big fat ego, don't you! S2S2 And Ophelia thought of that prank, mind you. Possibly with the help of Zevran. But mostly Ophelia because everyone knows Morrigan needed to pay for that friendly fire thing. XD I hope you're not thinking of Alistair and Morrigan sleeping now! Because I think my idea is so much better! Haha, jk. And really, it's not. It's not the right time for me, right now. But when it comes, I'll be ready to give my all for that one person. Or be lonely forever. ; 3;

**Chelsinator07**: Uhuhu. A 4. But great save. XD Yay! I knew it! But aww, c'mon! It must turn you on a little, no? Lol. I'm really hoping you didn't turn away after reading this chapter. I mean... If you thought that the lemons before were awkward. xP And thanks! Glad you think so. :D

**BecksLynn**: Well, here's the direction I took. What do you think? Gah, I can't tell you how scared I was to write this chapter and even post it... But hey! Your wish is granted. A baby! I think...

**whiskered oranges**: The Eluvian crap? I thought they could've at least taken the dog with them. I was like... WTF MAN? YOU FORGOT THE DOG! Lol. Jk. I was happy too. But I have a different idea of how it should end. :P

**FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF**: FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFOK YOU! FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFOKIN FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFOK YOU WITH SOMETHING HARD AND SANDPAPERY! Seriously?! Why did you have to say that?! XD Omg, but you did make me feel a little less scared to post this. Thanks for the compliments. Your modaFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFokin wish was granted. But it was premeditated since the start so... Don't feel too special. I better hear from you giving me another 5. No, actually... Give me an essay saying how much you loved this chapter. XDD

**jstarr2209**: Thanks! And oooh... Good guess. That is what Morrigan had in mind. Too bad it's not what I had in mind. XD AND NO! You come back and review again! PLEAAASE! Lol.

**Yulian0143**: Thanks! But... O 3o Tell me more, please. This was in chapter 3. xD

**LunarOphelia13**: Fear not! You don't need to feel conflicted, anymore! And you're the first one to compliment me, at that. Thanks! I was afraid it was a little cheesier than usual.

**ARavingLooony**: Yea, she's badass like that. Able to seduce women and deceive men for her obvious advantage. You mad bro/sis? :3 Read chapter 17. Explains why she's so badass. Thanks for reading. ;D

Thanks for the compliments, ratings, and reviews everyone! Review again please.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, that was a thrill to write. Leave with a bang, right? LOLOL. You have no idea how much I strained my imagination. Like... I had to force myself to get horny. XD I honestly don't know how I could write that much lemon... Ah, but I do love lemon, especially with some tequila or patron. :3

In any case... I swear... I was TERRIFIED to do this for obvious reasons but after FFF guest reviewed about it, I was like... 'WTF! He/she has a sick mind like mine!' So I felt better. But damn angry he/she had advised it which meant he/she could've anticipated it, which meant someone else could've also! Son of a beetch. I thought I would totally shock or totally repulse everyone because... Who would dare put such a thing in a serious fic?! UHUUUU. ; 3; Fok you FFF. You should've kept lurking! But just you! Lol.

This was my canon idea though. Right from the get-go. Remember about me asking about the 'straight' sex? This is what I meant. ;3 I knew it was going to be challenging to write things like this passionately and not vulgar, as I would imagine some people out there do (and I mean using mediums other than writing as well) for the heck of it, not mixing love and that fluffy stuff with it. If I didn't do this though, then I wouldn't be truly happy with the outcome. So I'd rather take the risk because I, too, have grown balls made of steel. :D

At any rate, who can argue that this was completely absurd? I think I can write it and have it be plausible that demons can do all sorts of things. I could've made Ophelia grow two dix instead of one. Or even twenty, like the mothafoken kraken! But that'll be a little too much, I think... And I can't do that to Morrigan. Even if she might enjoy that much animation. Haha.

Anyway, tell me how you guys reacted. Do you think I should've totally skipped all the sex and summarized what just happened? Was it a two girls one cup or a gangnam style? Lol. If it did freak you out, just pretend it was a strap-on. But my descriptions are probably too graphic for it to be effectively imagined as one. XP

And-uhm... The end is near! Who wants a sequel?! Y'all who enjoyed this but haven't shown any appreciation better give me some lovin' soon! I want at least 200 reviews to inspire me for a continuation! ;D Because... I don't know how many would still be interested. And I still have to strengthen the ideas I already have. For my standards, they're not enough.

Oh! And the song is supposed to be reflective of the cataclysmic miracle that was the OGB's conception. Idk.

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	21. Chapter 21 Skinny Love

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_Minor Edit: April 11th, 2014  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Skinny Love<strong>

by Archristol

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 21 - <strong>Skinny Love<strong>

* * *

><p><em>–– Please listen to "Epilogue" by Byung Woo Lee while reading the first section.<em>

[-]

All was fairly silent and still.

_0:00_

Then simple strokes on a piano keyboard resonated the prelude to a melancholic melody. It soared across the mosaic marble floor then diffused allover a magnificent ballroom hall.

The elegant tune was infinitely innocent yet couples were inexplicably lured to embellish the romantic venue with the grace of their feet. They trickled through the expanse gradually in sync, their radiance amplified by the combined vivid luminance of multiple chandeliers.

Morrigan held her breath, dreading the captivating feeling it compressed within her chest. She would've persisted, if not for the familiar figure fluctuating at the top right corner of her eye.

Her sights diverted toward the dither and she was asphyxiated once again.

Gliding down a curved flight of stairs – much like a poised egret – was her treasured Grey Warden, clad in a long, lean, delicate dress. With one hand on the ebony railing, her very emanation was a warm murmur in the winter night along with the crisp, cooling, tinkling waft of the autumn wind.

Numbed and tensed by the sibylline glass orbs, Morrigan exhaled carefully, lips parted by a fraction.

Ophelia completed her descent and smiled an exquisite smile before serenely strutting through the mere ten feet which separated them.

Morrigan couldn't comprehend why she found it mesmerizing that they both exhibited tulle gowns which had many similarities yet were quite the opposites.

Ophelia's was ivory, Chantilly laced, and crafted with gauzy silk while Morrigan's was phantom, embroidered with flowers, and crafted with semi-nude chiffon. Ophelia was dream-like and rhapsodic while, in turn, Morrigan was dark and nymphlike. However, together, they carried a fragility and seductiveness so unique but ultimately complemented each other.

"Your hand." The modestly spruced rogue leisurely lent a palm, her spine straight.

Too occupied in her pulchritude, Morrigan had forgotten to flee from that horrific possibility. "What?" She eyed the hand and momentarily feigned ignorance, hastily disapproving afterwards with eyes glaring either side of her, "No. Not in front of an audience."

Ophelia chuckled briefly, "The more reason to dance," then she grabbed her wrist and led her to the dance floor, disregarding permission, "I'll take care of you." Her eyes never abandoned the apostate's.

_0:47_

"No! _Ophe––_" Morrigan whined but the entrancing song opened for a transition, subtle strings joining the piano, thus she was gingerly pulled by the waist with delight, Ophelia guiding her calmly with proper posture.

Fretful, Morrigan gripped tightly at the tanned shoulder and hand then gazed at the flowy ends of their dresses as if to search for help, her steps clumsy in comparison.

One, two, three. One–no–two, two, three.

"Morrigan," Ophelia christened. "Look at me."

Thus, Morrigan looked.

With that gentleness, she allowed herself to be secured and, like a feather caught by a breeze, just realized herself swaying harmoniously with her lover in under a few seconds.

The blonde smirked sweetly in glory of her accomplishment, lips a humbling peach rose. In accordance, her hair was parted cleanly to a side and with a low hanging ponytail behind, showcasing her sharp simplicity.

Morrigan couldn't be too irritable with that conceited yet assuring face – she did quite enjoy the dance and reveling in their romance – so she returned the gesture, even though half the enthusiasm.

Glimpsing at the other more experienced couples, she was incredibly grateful for the relaxed tempo, providing her ample time to adjust and become somewhat as competent.

She was engrossed and inspired as they circled the dance floor effortlessly for half a minute like orbiting planets. There was something incredibly soothing with the twinkle in those diamond eyes and confident hold.

Once it was becoming customary bliss, the piano ceased to play – startling her for a second.

_1:40_

But then the symphony orchestra came alive and opened the doors to paradise with their passionate violin family, inducing dramatic yet uplifting momentum to their waltz.

Morrigan gasped inwardly as the breeze carried her faster, their slides and rotations more ardent than the last and causing their gowns and her wavy tresses to flow smoothly in rapport.

"This is fun, huh?" Ophelia beamed amidst their effervescent whirling, "More fun than gawking at least." She didn't even stagger for a breath.

Morrigan tittered lowly in response, "Oh, yes. _'Tis ve~ry lovely_," then she bowled her eyes skywards, sarcastic but a tad sincere.

Ophelia giggled and tested her enthusiasm by adding an abrupt alternative, twirling her daintily once, admiring her bloom with her gown like a rose, then tugging her back resolutely to the usual position.

Morrigan gulped. "Don't do that again," she glared and clawed at the mischief's skin, suppressing the temptation to introduce her own rendition of the waltz.

Cognizant, Ophelia just beheld her with amused eyes, secretly scheming for the next calculated assault.

Not that Morrigan couldn't distinguish it from her body language.

...And not that she truly loathed being twirled, either.

Bickering aside, the euphony's enthralling haze inevitably settled back in their atmosphere and all the details within their surroundings were magnified.

For instance: the glamorous lights which highlighted their jewelries, their alluring perfumes which teased at their longing, the speculative eyes of their friends who had just congratulated their king and queen, and the unblemished waxed floor which reflected their recherché forms.

A flock of birds may not have been roused to the dome ceiling, but everything was subliminal enough to rouse their certain emotions.

It was so emotional that... Eventually, the amused eyes regressed to austere – and strangely lamentable – eyes that Morrigan couldn't complain when she was prompted to detach from her with only their one extended arm symmetrically latched onto each other, side-by-side, facing the opposite direction yet irises captured in a serious rivet.

The rotation finished with a tender trace of their exposed arms, fingers like a whisper – then hooking selfishly and returning them to the basic six count.

Morrigan cringed from a pang of mysterious pain as Ophelia kept funereal. Her hold was the same but everything else with her regal visage wasn't.

_Why?_

She sought the ring and saw it on her neck, hung by a gold band of more fashionable material.

_Still, she couldn't understand._

Obscurity clouded the air and she wished she could ask why.

_Hear why._

Then she heard the reminder of the violins – its flutter from high to low and then again.

_And had always known why._

[-]

Two weeks had passed since the death of the archdemon and the end of the Fifth blight. It was a joyous celebration and momentous occasion as Alistair was crowned king of Ferelden and married Anora to remain their queen. Subsequently, Ophelia was dubbed the country's hero and granted the titles for the Teyrnirs of Highever and Gwaren (which Loghain had to relinquish.) In addition, the arling of Amaranthine (which formerly belonged to Howe) was given to the Grey Wardens to help rebuild their organization.

At the wedding but out of nowhere, Ophelia miraculously stumbled upon Fergus and was mindbogglingly overwhelmed. In her mind, she had already accepted that he had died in the scouting mission prior to the battle of Ostagar, away from Highever when it was ambushed. Fortunately, he had survived and was nursed back to health by some Chasind Wilders. It was a lengthy process until he was able to travel, but he was grateful enough to have made it to Denerim in time to reunite and congratulate his younger sibling. Fundamentally, that was everything he did. With the tragic news barely sinking in and his coping just beginning, he chose to depart the royal palace sooner than later in avoidance of extraneous conversation. Besides their parents, he had also lost his wife, Oriana, and son, Oren. Hence, Ophelia empathized without question and consented him to journey back to their home. Then within a few days, worried and homesick, she immediately followed after him with Morrigan by her side.

In the year Highever was inhabited by Howe's minions, at the very infinitesimal, they repaired the physical structure that they had destroyed. Additionally, their people had generally been safe from the darkspawn when they were not protected. And some of the villagers who had relocated away from Howe's government were slowly coming back.

Truly examining her home, not much had changed. Its walls were still lofty and fortified. Its inhabitants were still plenty and kind. Its castle was still filled with lavish furniture, well-equipped guards, and loyal servants. Her bed was still cozy and refined. But it was in realizing these things that she discovered only her family and closest friends were gone – and only that meant so much more – and that she, herself, was the one that drastically changed.

Taking into account how her brother stayed sluggish from despair, Ophelia fought to preserve his remaining outlook in life using testimony of her own wrestle between life and suicide. She divulged most of everything – even the demon that she was, which she hadn't confessed to him or anyone in their family. At each point, Morrigan was there to advocate and emphasize the confidentiality of the topic, ensuring it was to be kept a secret. He reacted positively to the jaw-dropping stories and showed decent progress right after, efficiently preparing him for what Ophelia had premeditated in Denerim – a farewell party for her second family.

Fast-forwarding to the present and that event, their people were livelier and more than hospitable, briefed of their special guests whom included King Alistair Therein.

The brilliant sun hovered at the peak of the sky, aligning for midday and proving the lingering heat of summer. Luckily, the mollifying wind blew any annoyances aside and bolstered the promising day. Either way, the numerous boots which clicked dauntlessly on cobblestone pavement would've clicked dauntlessly, regardless of the weather.

"Been waiting for you guys all morning," Ophelia droned while she marched towards the estate's entry gates along with a few others behind her. Once there, she presented a palm and more keenly began, "Welcome. I'm guessing it was an easy trip? No one mauled by darkspawn or mugged by bandits?" She scanned the equally pleasant crowd who mumbled undecidedly before saying no's and/or shaking their heads.

Just when she was about to chuckle weakly at their reply, a familiar voice piqued her interest.

"Hey sexy thing."

Her eyes broadened at the soft voice with underlying wanton. "Isabela." She was about to 'professionally' approach the dark-skinned woman emerging from the group – when she was pinched on a sleeve then hauled backwards by a particular witch like a sorry chained prisoner. Thusly, she obediently stayed put without a scowl. "Glad you could come. It's good to see you," she announced in substitute, teeth shining with glee.

"Same to you," Isabela winked then glanced peculiarly at the sour mage who telepathically choked her. "And to your _striking_ lover, if I might add," she cajoled, noticing her new and more civilized outfit.

Morrigan scoffed, half-lidded eyes evading contact. She sported a low cut tank top, skintight trousers, and knee-length boots. The way her hair was bundled just above the nape of her neck, and dangled careless yet luscious wavy locks, bore proof of her brand new lifestyle and successful employment of a hairdresser.

Observant of the neglected man behind her, Ophelia cleared her throat then beckoned for him to draw closer. Her friends gave their full contemplation and she smiled proudly, "Some of you might've seen this fellow during the coronation, but it was a busy day and... Well, he fled before I could urge him to speak with everyone." She delayed to eye him as if for clarification, then rightfully declared, "Anyway, he's feeling much better now. So, without further ado, I'd like to officially introduce Fergus." She patted him on the shoulder firmly and snickered, "My humble servant."

"Hello everyone. That's me." Fergus simpered but played the part indifferently anyway, waving a hand for a second with a collected and self-assured posture.

Not to totally snub the truth, Ophelia supplemented, "And he's also my handsome older brother, as you see..." She caressed his stubbled face exaggeratedly.

Fergus acted like a soothed pet, relaxing a little from her touch, "Ah, thank you, sis. I couldn't perceive any sarcasm with that one."

"Mmm... He looks yummy," Isabela concurred with a minor lip bite.

"Older?" Wynne quirked a brow then hurriedly excused her skepticism, "I'm sorry, you always seemed like you would be the eldest."

"Hehe. I can see the similarities," Leliana scrutinized the silly duo who feebly slapped each other's faces (instigated by Fergus' limp swat of Ophelia's hand then her retaliation.) They were stoical and focused about their business like eight other people weren't there.

"Bagh! And no sister?! What other lies have you kept from us?!" Oghren grumbled indignantly on the other hand.

"It wouldn't be a lie if it was not told, my friend," Zevran corrected, propping an elbow on the dwarf's shoulder languidly.

In response to Oghren, Fergus draped an arm over the blonde for a semi-hug, ceasing their lighthearted battle, "She is my only sister, this much is true. But she is my favorite." He pinched her cheek thoroughly.

Ophelia shook out of it then faked a cackle, "_Hahaha~_ You're stuck with me."

"Anyhow, we are very glad to have you all here. Sis has told me much of your adventures. And her..." Fergus beheld the soundless temptress, "Tumultuous but incredibly romantic relationship with Morrigan... Who completely stupefied me, by the way, for reasons I think most of you are aware of."

To wipe the dumb looks or irritating leers away, Morrigan enlightened sharply, "I look like Moira, for those with wandering or inert minds."

Then as soon as Oghren snorted – loud barking echoed against brick walls and snatched their undivided attention.

"Nutella!" Zevran exclaimed instantaneously and spread his arms out for the war hound that raced towards them.

But his grin was replaced with a frown when the ecstatic mutt deliberately pounced into Sten's arms (which were apathetically crossed.)

"Good... Dog..." the seven-foot warrior managed to utter flatly in the midst of slobbering licks.

Crestfallen, Zevran hunched his back, "But of course, he would miss a big brawny qunari more than a little bitty elf such as I."

Leliana pulled the sad assassin and allowed him to instinctively lean on her shoulder before she consoled, "_Aww..._ It's okay, Zev..." She petted the side of his head, chuckling meekly, "But I think it's because Sten plays a whole lot more with him than you do."

In the spur of the moment, Morrigan regarded Ophelia and probed in disquisition, "I am not too well-informed with proper names for animals, let alone mabaris. However, does Nutella not sound like a female name more than a male one?"

The owner winced like she was offended, questioning her with furrowed eyebrows, "Here you are again with your judgmental impudence. Have you not hurt enough feelings?"

Perceptive, Shale made clear, "I have built a rocky bridge and gotten over it long ago, but I appreciate the concern."

Morrigan dabbed some condescension to her tone, "I am merely asking. Is it so pitiable of me to be observing these things from a logical standpoint?"

While she was babbling, Zevran had hastily grabbed the paws of the dog who had moved on to sniffing their boots. He posed him suitably, then proclaimed, "My magical woman, that is because it is obvious that this mighty beast is utterly _gaaay_!"

"_Ah,_ yes..." Isabela bent a tad and investigated Nutella like an aspiring scientist, "I can see it in the comely wag of his tail."

"Of course," Ophelia nodded convincingly, both fists on either curve of her hips, "he's a fabulous homosexual hound. That is precisely why I named him that."

"You win. Whatever," Morrigan sighed, irascibly adjusting a side bang out of her view.

Leliana rubbed at Nutella's belly as Zevran upheld him, "He's so cute. I wonder if he has any idea of what we're talking about."

Nutella simply panted and drooled.

Scrutinizing the diverse individuals, Fergus approved of the banter, "Such a jovial group, indeed." Then, remembering their agenda, he inquired, "Sis, why don't we let them come in and talk inside instead of out here?"

"Good idea," Ophelia nodded then projected her voice, "Alright, everyone. Follow me. Let's not bore the king from impatience." As usual, she twisted definitively then primarily took the lead, ambling ahead and signaling their next destination.

While they walked, they collectively stared at the laurel wreaths symbol on the Cousland family banners which hanged marvelously on the walls, tweeting birds increasing the heartening aura.

_Highever rightfully belonged to the Couslands._

Approximately halfway toward the main entrance to a vestibule, Ophelia noted with utmost resolution, "Keep an eye out for anything that belongs to Howe. I'd like to dispose of the garbage as soon as possible."

[-]

Stainless metal tinkled against glass, the classy sound resonating in the wine room as rich burgundy liquid was poured.

"Is that..." Alistair peeped, perplexed by the beverage being fixed, "Grape juice?"

"For Morrigan," Ophelia informed while arranging the circular tray and its contents, "This is what she's been having, though she looks tipsy."

Ironically, the two nobles were the ones who prepared the next set of drinks for the clamorous crowd in another room.

Settling the two bottles he retrieved on the countertop, Alistair particularly ascertained, "She doesn't like wine anymore?"

Ophelia multitasked tranquilly, concentrating not to spill. "She thinks this is wine."

Dissatisfied with her answer, Alistair inched closer and pried, "But why isn't she drinking––?"

No matter the amount of his curiosity, the blonde couldn't be interrupted, handling and mixing liquor like an alchemist.

Alistair gawked at her, still hopeful for enlightenment. It was only after a minute of quiet that he sighed and decided to move on, "Anyway, never mind that. Will you explain to me now how you survived?" He surveyed the chamber to ensure no one was eavesdropping then continued to murmur by her side, "I passed by your room that night, you know. To check on you. I heard noises – muffled groans – and thought... Morrigan must be raping someone." He reeled back slightly, repulsed by his reminiscing. "But it's crazy because you would never consent to that, would you? And it was in your room." Concluding his claim, he disappointedly shook his head. "I couldn't handle it and left before I heard more..."

Ophelia finished refilling the last wine glass and pivoted around to directly assert on him, "Listen and be quiet. I'll only say this once..." She reclined against the countertop and held his gaze firmly, calculating his trustworthiness before uttering below her breath, "Morrigan is pregnant."

"_Pregn––_?!" In a flash, Alistair's bewilderment was concealed by a hand.

"She doesn't want any attention. Don't tell anyone," Ophelia virtually glowered at him as she applied pressure on his mouth before releasing.

Speechless, Alistair's jaw dropped and his eyes scattered on the floor, scrutinizing its tiles over and over for an explanation. Once he nearly dizzied himself, he massaged his temples and tried his luck at asking, "But how? Who's the father?"

Ophelia swallowed then grinned cooly, "I am."

"Uh... _Pardon?_" Alistair shouted a whisper, the urgency and discombobulation evident in his tone and posture, "Did I just hear you say...?"

Unwilling to leak more, Ophelia resumed to work and took the tray. The Templar tailed her like a wagon, hence, she generously imparted to him at the exit, "Don't tell anyone. Not even Leliana or Zevran or Fergus. Nobody knows but you."

Alistair smacked his forehead and scoured his face, "_Maker's–––_" Then he hurriedly caught up with her as she ambled out the tall door. "H-how?! No explanation?"

Ophelia sustained her grit, not even allowing him her glimpse, "Someday, I'll say more. But not now."

Alistair pestered by her side with bug eyes, "You swear? You swear you'll tell me?"

"_Yes!_ I'll tell everyone eventually," Ophelia snarled in the most mutter-like way.

Alistair frowned like a kid but threatened like a thug, "You better tell, else I'll have you imprisoned."

Ophelia jeered, "That's some balls to be threatening me, Sir Majesty." Amused by his guts, she teased, "You slept with Anora, didn't you?"

"No! _By the––_ No!" Alistair complained with fright, shivering in the faintly lit hall. "Every time I see her, I see Loghain somehow. It's horrible!" he threw his arms up from the absurdity.

"It's all in your mind," Ophelia accounted as they entered lofty double doors, "Just like Morrigan being tipsy."

The absence of noise in the hallway totally equated with the transpiring situation in the opulently spaced and decorated living room.

"Alright Zevran, what are the stakes?" Morrigan was tapping impatiently on the ebony coffee table.

"Good question, my magical woman," the elf flicked the corners of his faced down cards, contemplating for a solution.

"Loser licks Oghren's foot! Loser licks Oghren's foot!" Isabela suggested repeatedly with exhilaration, a fist pumping the air. She couldn't care less of her provocativeness as she bounced on the lap of a cheerful Fergus.

"Sure, I'd like that. _Hehehehehe~_" the dwarf sniggered and raised his huge mug.

Zevran's head drooped ashamedly. "How shall I say this... _Oh..._ This is difficult." Before Morrigan could recommend something, he instantly babbled enthusiastically, "Whoever loses must disrobe then prance around the room naked for ten seconds!"

Morrigan recoiled on the couch. "And how is your disrobing winning for me? I do not wish to be repulsed!"

"How can you be so sure that you will not enjoy it?" Zevran queried like a renowned philosopher.

"That is a fair question to ask..." Morrigan let a smile settle for maximum effect, "Because I am not mentally challenged."

Isabela faked a frown and criticized like a bully, "Oh come on, _bitchy tits_. Were the Wilds so unaccommodating for such a delicate flower to grow into such a party pooper?"

Morrigan sighed indifferently then admitted, legs crossing with grace, "My mother and I may not have had the luxury of man's civilization, this is true. However..." Her tone was the epitome of the condescending yet unaffected. "'Tis far better to grow into a party pooper than a brown noser – use that under multiple contexts."

"_HAAA–––!_" Ophelia exaggerated with a boisterous single clap that the rest took the cue and cackled. "I can't help you with that one." She had paused from delivering drinks and hunched over to strive to catch her breath, laughing while standing, hands braced on an armrest.

Isabela's mouth was in the form of a capitalized 'o' as nearly everyone teared up from joy. "Damn... She called me a brown noser..." the pirate looked to Zevran for emphasis on her disbelief, "_She called me a brown noser._"

"In Isabela's defense," the Antivan scratched his nose austerely as if for serious imagery, "I rather like her brown nose brown nosing."

"_Zevran!_" Isabela slapped the now chuckling man beside Fergus.

"Fine. _Fiiine~_" Zevran tended to his stinging arm and eventually composed himself, negotiating once more with the temptress across him, "Alright... I will lick Oghren's foot if you win. But if I win, you will do this for me."

"No. 'Tis not a fair wager," Morrigan disputed uncompromisingly.

"Would you rather lick Oghren's foot?" Zevran reasoned with a witty brow.

Taking the opportunity, Ophelia quickly rose from her slothful sprawl on the carpeted floor and mandated, "As the host, I am now exercising the power to veto that wager and, using ordinance number..." she referred a hand to Fergus for assistance.

"Two hundred twenty-seven," he improvised skillfully.

"I am substituting another wager which I shall come up with now..." Ophelia stroked her chin contemplatively, "Morrigan shall kiss Leliana: openmouthed, with tongue, and closed eyes for ten seconds, should she lose."

Morrigan scoffed at the verdict, "You two should start a factory, producing such rich manure."

Leliana panicked, reeling and shaking her head, "Me? Why are we involving me?"

"Forgive me if I choose to shut my eyes for a minute or two," the old woman, contiguous to the archer, buried her forehead in a palm.

"Come on my darling Leliana, do not be a spoilsport. Take one for the team!" Zevran encouraged with a smirk.

"Incentive!" Isabela unclasped a pricey necklace and threw it to Leliana.

"_Oh... Andraste..._" the red head caught it hesitantly.

"Most curious... The swamp witch is not complaining," Shale commented from a corner of the room.

"_Hmm..._" Sten approved alongside her.

"If 'tis between disrobing or not. I choose the not," Morrigan rejoined, "And I'm rather not the 'party pooper' I used to be."

Isabela grinned to Zevran, "At least I contributed to this."

The elf heard and declared at once before Morrigan reconsidered, "Then it is decided!" He flipped his cards and conceitedly revealed a pocket of aces.

"_Ugh..._" Morrigan had already predicted her slim luck as Isabela took liberty to expose the river – and it wasn't in her pocket of kings' favor.

Everybody in the room gawped in anticipation.

"I did not think I would actually lose with this hand. _Uggh!_" she tossed her cards with ire then grabbed ahold of her head like she was going crazy, "What manner of sorcery is with me..." Only a second died before she ruthlessly clawed Leliana's jaw and delved her tongue down her throat.

"_Mmm!_" Leliana's sapphires broadened while she gripped the forearm of the seductress next to her.

Amazed by the act, Ophelia kneeled on the ground bordering them and watched keenly.

Morrigan sensed her presence and impulsively switched to kiss her, eyes welded shut as their mouths collided.

"_Hmmmm..._" Sten could be discerned humming.

"Too much... Must watch..." Oghren strained to remain conscious.

"_Dear Maker..._" Leliana gasped.

In a twinkling in her dazed state, Morrigan opened her eyes fleetingly.

But what she realized absolutely heated her blood to a boil.

Ophelia was in front of her but the lips she connected with weren't hers. "_You–!_" she glowered at the rascal.

"Care to continue in my room?" the rascal snickered.

"_YOU––––!_" Morrigan screeched at the proud Rivaini abutting the rascal.

"_NoooOOO!_" Ophelia screamed as she blocked the witch who tried to punch Isabela, "_Aaa~hhh!_" It rammed against her chest. "Morrigan!"

Morrigan smacked her out of the way and went after the duelist who bolted out of her reach.

"Let's not be hasty!" Isabela utilized the sofa (Alistair, Zevran, and Fergus were on) as a barrier between them. "It is common knowledge to talk before doing something so––!"

Morrigan's eyes were ablaze and so were her fists. "We'll speak when I roast you alive, _filthy pig_!" She hurled them and they missed, breaking windows and enflaming its curtains.

While the group endeavored to apprehend the mage or kill every fire started, Isabela endeavored to bribe, "I have a booty containing plenty of jewels! Surely, we can cut a––"

"I'll _cut_ you!" Morrigan snarled.

Worn out just listening, Wynne shook her head. "Children..."

Immediately after the fifth fireball, Morrigan felt dizzy and stumbled against a chair, approximately tripping over it.

"Morrigan!" Ophelia hauled her on the waist before she fell, "Exhausted?" she turned her around to inspect her.

She grazed her fingers tenderly around the face of the dark head who was limp against her hold, warm to the touch, and had unfocused eyes.

Satisfied with her assessment, Ophelia maneuvered them so that Morrigan was on her back and claimed, "Let's take you to bed. You need rest."

"Must you... Carry me this way?" Morrigan complained as she clasped her arms around her neck.

"I'm weak!" Ophelia exclaimed, hooking her arms around her legs.

Wholly understanding of the situation, the group stared and giggled as their leader trudged toward the door, heart-warmed by the madness quickly simmering into something sweet.

"Goodnight," Isabela managed to impart sweetly for the mage before they could leave the room.

Knowing she was being mocked, Morrigan shot a glare.

The lovers were mostly quiet in their voyage to the bedroom, merely footsteps reverberating in the dimly lit halls.

But in nearing their bedroom, Ophelia uttered, "You really are pregnant. Your fatigue is a sign."

Morrigan was almost asleep when she countered snappishly, "And you living wasn't?"

"Of course it was," Ophelia smiled, charmed by the evident signs of her pregnancy, "If you're so cranky now, I wonder how you'd be months from now."

"You tricked me into kissing that... _Filthy_ pirate."

"Stop pretending you didn't have a bit of fun." She twisted a door knob and entered their room, the cooler breeze from the windows greeting them. "It's not too late to try more." Arriving at the bed itself, she allowed her passenger to gently slide off her physique.

In between the removal of her shoes and her getting in bed, Morrigan warned intermittently, "If you... Participate... In their orgy... I will turn you... Into dust."

"Okay," Ophelia just beamed while tucking her in.

Gratified by the comfort of their soft bed, Morrigan mellowed and asked, "Did I hurt you?"

Ophelia put a hand on her chest as if to check. "Stings a little," she chose to say if just for conversation.

Spotting her sarcastic plea for sympathy, Morrigan exhaled contentedly, "Good." Then she raised a hand to cup the feminine face sweetly, scanning every centimeter for a detailed image for when she dreams.

[-]

A month passed and Morrigan had gotten accustomed to the glamorous life (a perk from living with a noblewoman.) She wore whole new sets of clothes, commanded her own set of servants, ate diverse, delectable food, had a painting done for her, and whatever else she coveted.

But living with a Teyrna also comprised of a weekly outing routine: of visiting a village to check on their defenses, of examining a grassy field where more farms could be established, of strategizing and assigning guards to different residences, of negotiations with traders, of political trips, etcetera.

Of course, she didn't have to accompany her every time, only when she preferred it. There were instances where she was still bothered by the Grey Warden's choices. One would assume that after traveling a year with her and, most importantly, being her lover, she would've been more tolerant. Not her. She still barked and hissed, especially when the subject being discussed was a weakling in need – which occurred very often, questing with a benevolent figure.

Ophelia normally handled those dilemmas by carefully rebuking the witch then expounding on it later in private. Ofttimes, Morrigan would surrender the debates but not be completely swayed by it, just like their tussles about quest choices. In which case, Ophelia only asked for her trust, promising fruitful results for them and their teyrnir. Since, ultimately, she desired Morrigan's whole understanding and, if possible, her more involved cooperation in the future.

For the apostate, the humanitarian excursions weren't as frustrating as, for example, sneaking inside the Deep Roads merely to destroy the Anvil of the Void. Also, for a bizarre reason, the people of Highever generally treated her genially, if not for her beauty and vanity – for her comical interactions with their beloved Teyrna (which really wasn't that comical for her.)

When she did get visibly frustrated, the best things about living in Highever was presented to her by none other than the diplomatic nutcase. The hopeless romantic would bring her to dine in a fanciful restaurant, row down a river with a canoe, promenade through the forest to end in a hot spring, amongst other things.

And after a lengthy day of hard work, which consisted of helping (or being coerced) to cure an injured traveler, it was only proper for her to be inveigled for a 'lovely' hike up a mountain as compensation.

Which she was kind of getting tired of – with the slope becoming steeper after every step.

"Where are you taking me?" Morrigan huffed petulantly, boots wading through a sea of crisp leaves.

Darkness was plaguing the sunlight's remainder, bugs were spraying her face, and she was breaking a sweat. If the scoundrel didn't unearth what there was to unearth, the Sixth Blight would begin anew.

"We're almost there," Ophelia tried to appease, but to little effect. Trudging towards a dead-end, she halted in front of its jagged wall then pleasantly extended an arm for the witch, "Grab my hand. We must climb this rock."

Morrigan squinted her eyes and bestowed a condescending once-over.

_Climb? For the past thirty minutes, they were already climbing._

Vexed, she trundled her eyes to the treetops then transformed into a bird, speedily proceeding ahead and unto to what appeared to be a mesa.

Ophelia grinned and shook her head to herself as the shapeshifter overtook her. But not to prolong their dawdling, she implanted a foot in a crevice then crawled up the coarseness, properly using its interweaving vines.

In three minutes, she was hove up by a more amiable Morrigan then guided onwards like the mage had been the frequenter.

After ten or twelve steps, the amorous sun was finally exposed, glorifying Highever's landscape with its warm blanket. Moreover, the crescent moon lingered gracefully nearby, as if giving allowance for the sun's spectacular swan song.

That as it may, Ophelia's beaming and astonishment came from something else. "It's still here," she referred to the sophisticated maple tree which she gingerly approached, feet mixing vermillion, tangerine, and a bit of olive verdure.

Below a hefty branch, her hands clasped a pair of hanging ropes. "I can't believe it," she expressed like a mightily impressed child then hopped over the suspended wooden slab and plopped her behind on it. While testing its resistance, her gaze juggled vivaciously over the spectacle, the swing, and the witch. "Moira used to sit here with me, at least once a week," she proclaimed before she pushed her feet and propelled herself back and forth.

Charmed, Morrigan advanced toward the neighboring swing and settled on it. "I can see why," she concurred with the ecstatic reaction then applied her own momentum for undulation. "'Tis a precious view. And apart from the annoying ruckus," she returned her heartwarming smile.

"Then you like it?"

"Yes, I do." Taking advantage of the query, she cleverly complained, "The leveled platform and well-placed trees support concealment lest another wounded adventurer stumble upon us."

Ophelia kinda snorted, "_Aa~nd?_ How does that obstruct me from my way _doo~wn_?" she had jutted her head in emphasis for the mockery.

Morrigan cracked an emotionless yet sinister smirk, much like a masquerade mask. "If you must feel obligated to alleviate another simpleton's woe, should he arrive, then allow me the small assistance to push you off the ledge for a more prompt descent." Although, the comedy was apparent in her sarcastic tone.

Ophelia snickered, "How kind of you," then she latched her arm securely around a rope to tap on her lips, "I do wonder... What would it take for you to lend a hand to a helpless stranger, maybe even an animal, entirely out of conscience?"

"Well, the answer is simple," Morrigan paused for suspense, "Nothing."

"Uh-huh," Ophelia acquiesced with a nod, "We'll see..."

"_We'll see?_" Morrigan didn't fancy the wily curve of the obsidian lips. "Do you want to bet?"

Ophelia just preserved her 'you're a liar and you know it' mien while she increased the air speeding against her skin, legs straight, torso inclining in then reclining out and vice-versa.

When autumn leaves precipitated, she deemed it befitting to transition to a new topic. "You look like you've sat on a swing before," she presumed.

On the contrary, Morrigan oscillated steadily. "I have."

Like a kid showing off in a playground, Ophelia fully reclined and was practically lounging in midair. "Have you ever done this?" she boasted, eyeballing the ground upside down in preparation for a backflip.

"No," Morrigan declared nonchalantly then warned with a derisive grin, "I will have you know that if that seat or its ropes snap and you get thrown off that cliff – I will be crying profuse tears and wheezing in pain, _laughing_ my ass off."

Feeling ridiculed, Ophelia postponed her stunt. "Oh yea?" she challenged even as the wide tree branch creaked diminutively.

"Yes."

"What if it snaps right now?" Her ponytail grazed the grass with every dip.

"Then the sooner I will be laughing."

"I don't believe you." She braced herself on the ropes and began to maneuver for a twist. "The last time I almost fell off a cliff you were-"

_CRACK––!_

Leaves exploded as Ophelia face-planted, the plank she previously sat on had broken in half before she could unfasten for the flip.

"_Mmffff–!_" Morrigan ceased from swinging and nasally suppressed her overjoy, lips puckering in strain from bursting open.

"_Pffeeing pyour pffanties from phorror... Pffff..._" Ophelia exhaled calmly into the foliage, finishing her sentence with shame.

The way she twirled with style midway... Only to taste the earth's dirt...

"_–AHAHAAA––!_" Morrigan absolutely cracked up, slapping her knee like she had held her breath for a prolonged moment then wheezing in pain as she mentioned.

Ophelia bent her head up to check the cackler and sniffed in self-pity, "..."

"Thatcouldn't-havesnapped-ata bettertime," Morrigan remarked in sharp puffs as she chuckled uncontrollably and wiped the corners of her eyes, "_No–Ihave–never–donethat!_"

_Her flushed cheeks..._

_Her subtle dimples..._

_The swipe of her fringe that each time misplaced from a convulsion of utter joy._

Mesmerized, Ophelia couldn't resist leaning on an elbow and examining her, "I could watch you laugh for the rest of the evening. You're simply adorable." She had her under a magnifying glass. "I should do this more often."

At the statement, Morrigan's countenance abruptly morphed to fit a glower and she hastily regained composure to spit sourly, "Shut up."

It was Ophelia's turn to smirk. "_Whaaat?_" she shrugged like she had been wrongly accused.

Morrigan merely rolled her eyes for the hundredth time then sighed an unfathomable sigh in order to muster her sanity and stand. She sauntered toward the epic failing jester and reluctantly granted a hand.

Ophelia eyeballed it cautiously (for fear of being fooled) but grasped it too fast to find out. She got on a knee then subsequently got on her feet.

Morrigan was noiseless as the mischief cleaned her casual outfit off of plants and dust. Then eventually staring out into the vast and inspiring horizon, she consequently bordered the edge of the plateau and quizzed, "What other things did you do with her up here?"

Ophelia was scrubbing her forehead when she admitted, "Nothing, really." Although, cognizant of the value of her anecdote, she rambled on behind her, "We just come here to watch the sun as it sets or stargaze. And we talk. Gossip. Joke... With food, occasionally..." She dallied, expecting feedback. Uncovering there was none, she creeped beside her and muttered more sentimentally while picturing the pinkish clouds as distinguishable objects, "When I fell asleep... She brought me home before curfew. And I did it on purpose sometimes, just so she would carry me. Because I wanted to be held."

Fascinated by both the panorama and her paramour, Morrigan ogled her inquisitively and with admiration. As much as she abhorred the emotion, it was humbling to learn of her lover's past. In all her vulnerability, Ophelia had salvaged strength and, therefore, efficiently molded her into the esteemed woman she was now.

_But it was exasperating. It was as if she was shoved into a stage with her and she was apprehensive that she would just be a nuisance to her splendor._

"Did you have sex?" The blunt query emerged out of nowhere.

Ophelia jumped a tad at the ludicrousness. "As a child and with her?" She instigated a staring contest for ten seconds but lost after five. "You would ask that question." Amused, she chortled as she confessed, rubbing the nape of her neck coyly, "I wish."

Morrigan stayed blasé. "Do you think she did?"

"This spot was ours. She promised me that."

"So you have technically betrayed her by bringing me here?"

Ophelia pore over her, somewhat aware of where she was leading to. "Perhaps. But I care not," she mimicked her accent.

With that act, Morrigan faced her and gradually slid a suggestive hand on her bicep, massaging her muscle, "Would she be jealous if we did it here?" she tempted with an inquisitive brow, luscious leer, and provocative lip bite.

Ophelia scoffed loudly at first, "I don't know," yet she ruminated for a few seconds, inched closer, and entwined their gloved hands together, considering the proposal with a solemn tone, "But I want to..."

_It would be so easy to forget if she forever drowned her sorrows in their intimacy._

The sun barely set as Morrigan was tugged for a kiss, the light poking through their connecting mouths like a needle through a hole.

[-]

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

She wasn't certain if it was her hormones or just her. But another month had passed and tried her fortitude.

The political rumble over Amaranthine and, primarily, Vigil's Keep was undeniably far from her field of expertise and was clearly too much for her to tolerate. Both her patience and the conference had the surface tension of water – that was shattered by a weightless pin.

How a single impulsive comment ruined the whole evening.

_"Since before the day the Orlesians departed and after our arling's flag was raised, the Howe family owned Amaranthine. Not a second rate Cousland who, from sheer luck, inherited Highever, thanks to the murder of the only living Elstan, a cousin of the Howes," Bann Esmerelle, currently the most powerful nobility in Amaranthine, contended against the woman sitting in the middle of a lengthy wooden table occupied by multiple banns and a tempress._

_Ophelia clasped her hands over the furniture and avowed tranquilly, "My family may not have been the true rulers of Highever, but the people have shown enough love that we feel praised us as such." Her spine proved rigid as she discussed, "At any rate, Amaranthine belongs to us now, whether you approve or not. Since that is decided, I suggest we come into terms with each other, for the good of our people."_

_That pointer was sharp enough to pop the lieutenant's nerves. "We will never replace you for Howe! You murdered him!" Esmerelle had stamped a palm in front of her and bolted up for a stand, thoroughly beleaguered._

_She should've kept her lips sealed._

_"And he murdered nearly all of the Couslands."_

_But she didn't really want to._

_Esmerelle glared at Ophelia like she had been the culprit. "You better adjust the leash on this slave," she intimidated with utmost scorn, the infuriation emanating off of her middle aged grimace. "If you don't want her head on a pike."_

_"My, his offsprings should be killed as well. 'Twould only be fair. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."_

_She had already been signaled to discontinue, yet to surrender wasn't in her nature._

_"Shut your mouth, peasant. You have no right to speak here," Esmerelle directly glared at the heckler, at last._

_"Bravo. You retorted with futile ad hominem." There was a pause for a contemptuous clap. "An impressive bann, indeed."_

_"Morrigan," Ophelia cinched the witch's wrist, reprimanding with her touch._

_"Is this the type of woman you associate with? A wretch who enjoys speaking out of place?" Esmerelle even eyed the rest of the nobles who acceded under her despotism. "This meeting is adjourned. Highever may be in the hands of the likes of you but not Amaranthine." With her rousing from her seat and storming for the doors, the sycophants trailed behind her like bees._

The doors creaked open then slammed shut.

"Morrigan..." Ophelia had entered and jutted a hand from whence she came. "What was that?"

"That woman spews desperate and incoherent nonsense. 'Twould be to her favor to be shoved out the door!" Morrigan retorted like she deserved to be the angrier between them.

"You know how important that was to me!" Ophelia expressed shame rather than disdain, "How could you do that, Morrigan?"

"Do what? I spared your time, shooing that wretch!"

"It was a diplomatic meeting! A simple sneeze to the wrong side would've provoked the wrong impression! Forget about what she says, the burden to influence is on me!" Ophelia looked to the concave ceiling momentarily, pondering over the mess that was made. "I briefed you on this! How could you be so reckless?!"

"_How could I?!_" Morrigan virtually rammed her nose to hers as she confronted her more closely. "I'm certain that you felt the same!"

"I did!" Ophelia admitted, "But there is a time and place for everything! _You know that!_"

"_No!_" Morrigan denied, "No, I do not!" but in her mind she was aware of what was said and lowered her head as she detached the lock that ensnared their eyes.

"Morrigan..." Ophelia changed her aspect's texture, noticing that the fault shouldn't solely be on the apostate. "_I'm sorry..._" she sympathized, forcibly welding Morrigan to her body with her arms, "I overreacted. Your impression's worth much more to me than theirs ever could," her lips molded to the bridge of her nose.

Morrigan's hands automatically crept up her back, no matter her disfavor, "You should have that woman assassinated and solve your problem."

"That's the lazy way out." It was murmured to her.

She was well-versed of the Grey Warden's compassion. Why should she expect otherwise? "_Fool..._"

Using her lips, Ophelia illustrated on her neck, "_I love you..._"

Morrigan's nails scratched her spine like a rake as she gasped lightly – not from pleasure but from dismay.

_A fraction of her wanted to be oppressed – to be beaten to obedience. Since, truthfully, it hurt more not to be. She knew she was in the wrong._

[-]

Inactive yellow eyes slowly opened.

_There was weight and warmth pushing on her abdomen._

So she shifted under the heaviness and discovered the blonde head slumped over her, breathing faintly.

_She had fallen asleep at dusk and the candles couldn't have lit itself in the dead of night. She was recently watched by her._

Heartened, she slipped a hand out of the silk covers and curled her fingers over the silky hand reposed by her side.

_They were both anxious. She would enter the second trimester. It would be apparent in her form. Everyone would know. Then––_

The hand she clutched twitched lightly, somehow stirred in the silence. In response, she brought her own hand to the aristocratic face and caressed it, fingers brushing the tanned cheek up then down like a tide rolling over sand in a shoreline.

"_Mm–_" A muffled groan. "_Morrigan..._" A muffled murmur.

Adoring the adorable, Morrigan opted a wisp of a smile then tested the sleepyhead's languor by arranging astray flaxen tresses.

_Must be dreaming._

Still discerning no movement to rise, she queried out of the blue, "Would you still find me attractive?" Her voice was at a moderate volume like a normal conversation had started beforehand.

Ophelia scrunched her eyes, dueling with her drowsiness. "_Mm–huuh?_" she mumbled while she tried to flicker for a gaze.

"_Would you?_" Morrigan pried, aware that those clever ears had heard.

Attentive, Ophelia gradually ordained herself to adjust her prone figure, twisting from a facedown to a fetal position. "When your..." She rubbed her eyes like it would refresh her mind. "Belly's bulged?" she concluded then lethargically gripped the seductress' meandering hand.

"Yes," Morrigan intoned, somewhat eager for an answer.

"Of course," Ophelia yawned carelessly in between her assurance, "Nothing will change that."

Astonished by the effortless claim, Morrigan pried quite sternly, "No witty addition to that remark?"

"No," Ophelia smirked but it didn't dilute her sincerity, kissing each of her lover's knuckles.

Morrigan could compose no retort, so they blinked and scrutinized each other with morse code while stroking their intertwined hands.

_It was warm yet cool; secured yet fading; tender yet inadequate._

An infinite many things to say but cannot be said. In spite of that, there was a mutuality – a sense of what the other wanted.

_Was it the ring?_

Minutes flew by and the humungous room seemed darker and colder as a gust of wind from open windowed patio doors blew and fluttered the small flames of the candles – feeding the fright of the afraid.

As if awakened by the whoosh, Ophelia finally spoke, "I can't wait to see it for myself. Him or her." She gazed at a section of the witch's midsection and used her index to trace over it, momentarily unclasping Morrigan's hand. "I know that when I do, the joy of having been united with you will be everlasting in him or her." She swallowed nervously. "And I don't care how people might react once they see there's a bun in the oven. All they'll need to know is that it's completely mine." Nostalgic of her dead nephew's birth, she despondently yet confidently revealed, "I can already imagine how small his or her hands would be as a newborn," she modeled her littlest finger and proclaimed with a tear welling up in her eye, "Able to clinch barely half of this pinkie."

Morrigan gawped at her with a blank stare and immobile lips. She would've considered the possibility of taking an arrow to the heart if she was deaf and blind. And perhaps that would've been better.

The rogue could've asked questions or accused her in some notion.

_She knew._

_Why wouldn't she say something?_

The dazed diamond eyes freed itself from its trance then glued on aureate eyes. "Am I boring you?" Ophelia quipped delightedly.

Morrigan was underwhelmed. She had expected more. "_No..._" her reply came easy, "Not at all."

The bed squeaked as Ophelia leisurely rose up then crawled over, placing her hands adjacent to either side of the brunette's head, her legs entrapping her hips. She let their eyes lock for a brief second, as if for permission, before she dove and slithered a wet tongue on her neck, stopping where her ear and jaw met. "But this would be more exciting?" She breathed hotly then continued to admire the creaminess, clutching the nape for better leverage as she nibbled on it.

Morrigan crumpled her eyes but could not moan. The kisses traveled to her jawline and her mouth fell agape, but still could not moan.

A hand even dared to dig beneath the slender blanket and reach for her but she still could not moan.

Fingerprints were being impressed on her sensitive flesh – yet still nothing.

Ophelia paused to look at her, "Am I doing it wrong?"

_Her mien lacked boldness, mettle, dominance..._

_Why couldn't she just be angry?_

"No..." Morrigan droned as dull as emptiness.

Carnation lips dropped to a scowl. "You can tell me."

_No. She refused the initiative to confess. Couldn't she force it out of her like she used to? Grab her? Slap her? Choke her?_

Morrigan wanted to scream. Scream, yell, burn down the house... Then maybe they would fight and everything would be easy.

Instead, she gasped as the bed squeaked again and desperately cinched the wrist of the noble who tried to move away.

"_Ophelia..._" The name was the last thing she said before she pulled her into a soul-searching kiss and hurriedly allowed herself to be toppled on the bed.

Their need exponentiated.

Their clothes shed.

The candles died.

The sheets tangled their bodies.

Their salty skin glistened in the moonlight.

And when their cries and the tremors subsided, damp, remorseful lips pressed on the groove behind a sleeping ear.

_"I'm so sorry..."_

[-]

_Come on skinny love, just last the year,_  
><em>Pour a little salt, we were never here,<em>  
><em>Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer.<em>

_I tell my love to wreck it all,_  
><em>Cut out all the ropes and let me fall,<em>  
><em>Right at the moment, this order's tall.<em>

_And I told you to be patient,_  
><em>And I told you to be fine,<em>  
><em>And I told you to be balanced,<em>  
><em>And I told you to be kind.<em>

_And in the morning, I'll be with you,_  
><em>But it will be a different kind,<em>  
><em>'Cause I'll be holding all the tickets,<em>  
><em>And you'll be owning all the fines.<em>

_Come on skinny love, what happened here?_  
><em>Suckle on the hope in light brassiere,<em>  
><em>Sullen load is full, so slow on the split.<em>

_And I told you to be patient,_  
><em>And I told you to be fine,<em>  
><em>And I told you to be balanced,<em>  
><em>And I told you to be kind.<em>

_And now all your love is wasted,_  
><em>Then who the hell was I?<em>  
><em>'Cause now I'm breaking at the britches,<em>  
><em>And at the end of all your lines.<em>

_Who will love you?_  
><em>Who will fight?<em>  
><em>Who will fall far behind?<em>

[-]

Red orange infused with dark blue and distorted through fluffy clumps of white. Sprinkles of black were clustered at different areas of the canvas, but all of them headed in a single direction.

All but one.

_"My love,"_

Birds migrated annually to where it would be warmer for winter, there was no misconception about that.

_"I did not lie."_

Yet, one lone bird was no conformist to the flocks which journeyed east.

_"When I swore that I would not leave..."_

But a bird could be lost;

_"I will be with you through the ring."_

Flee from the warmth of the sun;

_"For as long as you want me with you."_

Chase darkness;

_"Take of that, what you will."_

Even when it belongs with its family which moves toward where the first light shines.

_"And punish me later, if you must, should we meet."_

At least, it wasn't caged;

_"As for the child that forever binds us..."_

Free from shackles.

_"I'm sorry."_

So the lonesome bird carried on, knowledgable of the perils that could await in the barren and frozen;

_"For this is who I am."_

But appreciative of its freedom;

_"Do not worry, I will take good care of the child."_

And where it derived––

_"Live life happily. You deserve much more than I."_

––The highest porch of a castle;

_"You will always be held dear in my heart and I will never forget us."_

Which was occupied by one woman;

_"I do not expect your forgiveness. Though, I still wish you would."_

Scoping out dawn's pacifying horizon;

_"Thank you for everything."_

With a letter in her hand.

_"I love you,"_

Then in a few footsteps;

_"Morrigan"_

The piece of parchment laid on the floor, abandoned but not crumpled.

[-]

_Come on skinny love._

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"Skinny Love" by Bon Iver (Recommended: Birdy's Cover)

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for Lofticries<strong>

**Lord Tubbington**: Nothing's wrong with it! Just that it's not for this story! XD Haha. That much is true. I react well to motivation. And thanks for the rating! 20's crazy though. Lol. And we can't be alone if we're together! DUH! xD And sure, cheat for the 200 reviews! I'll just count yours as 1. Lmao. Jk.

**EmbertoInferno**: Yessur/maam. Oh, thank you for the salute! I might just write something more outrageous next time! XD Jk. I'm so happy you think I wrote it confidently. I did want it to have more purpose than just to get people horny. I'm all for the sensual stuff. And what a compliment! I do spend more time thinking of how to portray Morrigan correctly. Thank you for noticing!

**Dalish Elf**: Oi! You're one of my veteran reviewers. xD You stuck with me since the beginning! Don't feel bad if you missed 1 review. S2 And yes, it'll include that. Somewhat. ;)

**greg26**: Thank you! You must be a lurker! I'm glad to hear from you! Review again! XD

**geler7**: You know me! I can't settle for pure porno! I'm so thankful you didn't find it disgusting even though you hate it! Thanks! Yea... Morrigan's really getting used to using that word. At least, in private. You're very welcome. Thanks for sticking with me! Gosh, I'm such a sucker for compliments. Lol.

**jstarr2209**: A unicorn spell? XD Yea... I'm astonished by the number of people with dirty minds like me. Truly. And lmao! One day, I'll write a crackfic just for you! HAHA. Jk. Thanks for the rating. ;)

**LunarOphelia13**: Ei. They really can suck it. Ophelia's, I mean. I got none. XD This sick mind will think of anyway to deliver once it's determined to write about it. Hehe. But yes, it was a challenge to think of how to do it, exactly. Thanks for the 'fucking 10.' :DD

**Guest Wow**: Wow! A very accurate observation. I bet you'd make quite the college thesis if you haven't already. Thanks for reading. Especially the totally intrusive and unavoidable a/n. ;P

**ARavingLooony**: Trollolol. I have no idea what came over me to spare him because I'm completely illogical that way. I just wanted to see how readers would react and collect the data. Haha. Yours is outstanding! Thanks for reviewing again. S2

Thanks for the compliments, ratings, and reviews everyone! Review again please.

* * *

><p>AN: The end. Or... To be continued.

My first ever chaptered story finished! Thank you to all that supported! By reading, faving, following, and (my favorite) reviewing! With your kindest compliments, inputs, and even criticisms... You've motivated me enough to maybe pursue creative writing as a profession! I've done so much art but never tried writing. I've only really started last year of September and I must say... I've never grown in anything as quickly as I have here. In part, it's thanks to you guys! If no one gave me appreciation, I would've had no motivation and not gotten better like I did. It's also good to know people enjoy it. So thank you! I'd give you all a hug if I could. :D

Btw, I have spoken to Sarion previously about editting this whole thing together once it was done. So don't be surprised if I add some minor new content in the future. ;)

As for the sequel... It will be a semi-direct continuation from where this leaves off. I will need to solidify my plot so I want 200 reviews for some push! I know, I'm so greedy. But I really want the lurkers to talk. XD I think it isn't hard since in the first days I post a chapter, about half of that number already visits the chapter. Say something, please? Even the oldbie reviewers that I miss. Feel free. 333 :D

And a note... To be updated when the sequel comes, either: keep following this story and I will update it for a heads up or just follow me as an author and you'll see when it's posted. Btw, guys, if you don't know how to get alerted... It's because it goes in your mail. XD

Lastly, do you guys want a comic version of this story? Well, not really a comic... Something like my 'Paradise Circus' piece. I take the most important scenes of the story and draw it as I see fit. Take a look at my gallery if you haven't already! Thanks! archristol . deviantart . com

**Special Thanks**  
>Sarion, geler7, Dalish Elf, Lord Tubbington, whiskered oranges, AD Lewis, Moral Attention, LunarOphelia13, and to everyone who stuck with me since the beginning! Even if you don't talk. Damn you. Talk!<p>

Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com

**Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...**

5 - Totally Entertaining

4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good (But can be better.)

2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo Everything Bitch

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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	22. Chapter 22 I'm God

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**A Thank You  
><strong>

from Archristol

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Author's Note<strong>**

* * *

><p>Thank you for the 200 reviews! I know I say this a lot, but I greatly appreciate everyone that had continued to support me! The fact that some people remove my story from their favorite or alert, shows to me how valuable you guys are. I've predicted that some people will get offended by some of the things that I write and inevitably leave. But the most rewarding feeling is knowing that the most of you stayed after everything!<p>

So to thank you, I've prepared the following things: a trivia, faq, a question for you, the feedback for the last chapter, AAAND! AAAND! Some kind of teaser. I know this isn't the update most of you have been waiting for, but I really want to make the sequel to have the same impact this did (if not more.) Which is why I'll have to plan a detailed plot before I can begin writing. There's no doubt that I already have a few scenes that I've pictured during writing Skinny Love, but those are broken pieces that would need to be connected... And that's what I'm doing. To tease, the sequel will have a lot more flashbacks to Ophelia's past. I know how some people have come to love Moira and I thought that I could very much tie her into the sequel without the need of a spinoff... Since I'm ingenious like that. Haha. S2

Without further ado...

* * *

><p><strong>Trivia<strong>

* * *

><p>1. Ophelia's personality initially derived from the answer to the question 'what if Jeanne and Bayonetta (from the game Bayonetta) had a baby?' Jeanne is austere and uncompromising while Bayonetta is fun and coquettish.<p>

2. I found the song "Bernal Heights" a few days before I posted the chapter.

3. The scene in the chapter "God of Love" where Ophelia hears Moira was inspired by a scene from the horror movie "Martyrs."

4. Chapter 19, 20, and 21 were written completely on my iPhone mostly while I was on vacation.

5. Chapter 3 was written in 2 days.

6. The word 'stars' wasn't mentioned at all in the chapter titled with it. Why? The lyrics. While it is a literal meaning, it is also metaphorical in accordance to the story.

7. Ophelia is 5"10' while I presume Morrigan to be 5"7' or around there.

8. Ophelia's physique can be comparable to Maria Sharapova, a tennis player.

9. Nutella was named after "Nutella," a hazelnut spread. Because... I just like it.

10. Ophelia's reaction to Moira initially accepting the 'gift' was inspired by my little brother when he was four. He was combing his own hair (as I instructed him,) gave me the comb when he was done, then clasped his hands and beamed coyly yet proudly but only for a very brief few seconds.

11. Moira's name means 'fate' and also 'teacher.'

12. I got the idea for Morrigan to say "the great juju up the mountain," from Richard Dawkins, an atheist and biologist.

13. I first heard the music that I correlated with for the last chapter (where Morrigan and Ophelia dance) from a Cartier commercial.

14. The song names were kept as chapter names because if a new reader were to look around and find a song that they know, they would be more likely to check it out. It also works well for remembering what happened in which chapter, should one reread. The few chapters that didn't use the song name were because the song titles for those chapters didn't make much sense and could be a little confusing or deterring or, (in the case of chapter 11) plot revealing.

15. Sometimes, I read poems before I write and that influences my writing.

16. Animes like Ga-Rei -Zero-, Mnemosyne, and Claymore greatly inspired writing my dramatic scenes.

17. I love my reviewers! :D

* * *

><p><strong>FAQ<strong>

* * *

><p>1. Have you ever considered doing a femhawkisabela fic?  
>- Not exactly. I've never played DA2 or have the time to play it right now (unless you want me to stop drawing or writing for months.) Don't get me wrong, I really like Isabela. I just don't have the time.<p>

2. ...will it [the sequel] encompass awakening or skip straight to witch hunt?  
>- Yes. It'll encompass Awakening and Witch Hunt. As usual, I'm doing it differently. :)<p>

3. When exactly did she [Ophelia] get possessed?  
>- Around age 10.<p>

4. ...are you serious? ..you don't like to read?  
>- Only fanfics that are a continuation of the visuals I like. xP<p>

5. ...speaking of Ophelia, what prompted you to name her that?  
>- I like the name. The song "Opheliac" pertains to her quite accurately. Having a name that a Claymore (anime) character also shares is awesome. And doesn't Ophelia just sound dark and badass?<p>

6. ...damn you did that chapter on an iPhone?  
>- Notes and a Dictionary application. It's slower to type but for some reason, I get sidetracked less and thus, write more. On the PC, I can check on other things on the internet and sometimes I can't stop. xD<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Question for You<strong>

* * *

><p>If there would be another love interest in the sequel... Who should it be? Do you even approve?<strong><br>**

* * *

><p><strong>Feedback for Skinny Love<strong>

* * *

><p><strong><strong>EmbertoInferno<strong>**: Thank you! I love my tragic romance. x3 Fergus and Isabella? Haha. I just wrote that because I figured Fergus needed the company to take his mind off of things but I'm astonished that you liked it. :D As for your question, it'll be in the FAQ. And that's great that you pictured the dance scene as I wanted readers to! It is one of my favorite songs! :3

**egiaprevolg**: Thank you! And yes. It was going to happen, no matter the case. I think that a Morrigan staying would be waaay out of character. Unless one creates a more than plausible reason. Thank YOU for sticking with me! :D

**TheOddEnigma**: It will come! If you believe it will come! Haha. Thank you for the encouragement. S2S2

**ADLewis**: Oh shut up. Don't say sorry. Haha. You've been one of my most frequent reviewers. Missing a couple is totally fiiine. I will have to read some of your work to thank you. :D And yup. A Morrigan staying would be out of character unless one creates a more than plausible reason. I've posted a modern art of them in my dA if you're interested in seeing. Morrigan's wearing the dress that I pictured her to be wearing. I thought that the Dragon Age universe would allow that... Seeing how some of the costumes there are like. I just figured the character designers just wouldn't have the time for that much detail or a place for that kind of dress. And sheesh. Y'all really want a happy ending for them two? Haha. I'll try. ;) Thank you for everything, once again.

**********Lord Tubbington**********: If you keep asking like that... I just might... XD It'll be AU though. And bringing me down to a 19? The audacity! I should get 3 more points for that fantastic pain. LOL. Jk. Thank you for your more than generous ratings. S2 The sequel will come! Just wait my patient lad/lass. What's your gender, anyway?!

**knives4cash**: The end of this story, yes... But the start of something new! Do not fret! S2 Thank you for being such fantastic support!

**EmberOfSoul1323**: Omg. Your review breaks my heart. The briefness of it just shows me your grief. D: I'm sorry for making you cry... But damn, does that make me happy I could inflict such emotion using writing. Thank you for expressing it. -hugs- S2

**geler7**: An infinite. Haha. You adorable thing you. S2 Yup. Write S2 for a heart instead of the one with the 3 because FF is lame. And yes! CRY FOR MY STORIES! It makes me feel powerful. Bwajaja. Jk. Really though, it's a stroke to the ego. Thank you for sharing and everything. And yes, Epilogue is one of my all time favorite songs. I can listen to it on repeat over and over again. Love the things I can picture with it. AND YOU VERY WELCOME HONEY. Mind you, I don't say honey in real life. But you so sweet that I will call you that. Hehe.

**I'm a She**: I am going to guess that you're the FFFFF reviewer. XD And really? What I've written is close to your head cannon? As in... Like your Warden is a rogue and good and...? Just curious to know what you meant. I will say... If a girl had a penis, I'd be more likely to ride it. But that's only after meeting all my other standards too. LOL. I can't trade it for a vagina though. I would rather be the one with the penis. XD Thanks for replying. :3

**Moral Attention**: Mwahaha. I'm getting good at writing things that people don't expect. Hehehe. Thank you for the compliments and being a dedicated reader/reviewer! And your questions will be answered in the FAQ. :D

**Five No**: I must admit... Writing that dance scene is my favorite out of all the scenes I've written. I just loved listening to that song while writing it too. S2S2 Thank you so much for the TEN! Hehe. And I dunno what you meant by one of my fanfiction writers... You're missing a word. Haha. But I'll guess that it's good so thank you. Thank you! It's such an ego stroker when one says my Morrigan is written like canon. LIKE OMG. And you're welcome. Thank you as well. :D

**LunarOphelia13**: I'm glad you like my music. I'll need to update my 8tracks and put some new songs in there. Hehe. I love music. It helps me get high without really getting high. I'm serious too... It's therapeutic for me. And Ophelia might look... Or Morrigan might appear... DID I JUST SAY THAT? Don't tell anyone or I'll kill you. Thanks for the rating and encouragements and errthing.

**Kamimono227**: Are you Latina227?! I got that from the number. Lol. If you're not, read further please and tell me about it. It'll ease your heartache. :D

**jstarr2209**: Yaaay! A scented sticker! Never had one since so long ago! HAHA. What smell though? Lol. Thank you again for the wonderful compliments. I try very hard to please with my writing, in case people think I don't. ;P And what kind of crack fic? Hehe.

**Latina227**: We've talked on dA. I'm very glad that my writing has reached you. You're a great motivator for the sequel. :D Thank you.

**Throttakaze**: AAAAH. IT'S SO BAD THAT YOU JUST FOUND THIS STORY NOW. ...Because I would've enjoyed your reviews, if you review often. XD Thank you thank you thank you for each word you expressed in your review! I'm sorry if I replied late but I really wanted to reply to everyone by creating a new chapter. :3 Anyways, to respond... That achy feeling is just bliss... Isn't it? It's that achy feeling that makes everything mean so much more! Hehe. And no doubt about that doubt about Morrigan (did I confuse you with that phrasing? Haha.) Morrigan will be out of character if she didn't leave. She'll need to have a more than plausible reason not to leave. That's just her nature. I love that you loved that scene because I had trouble choosing from alternatives in my head which last scene I really want. I was going to write Ophelia looking for her and Morrigan stumbling in the forest somewhere... The bird idea came late but I'm so happy that I thought of it. It's much more profound to me.

I did quite mean to portray Ophelia as perfect at first, it bolsters the idea of 'the bigger you are, the harder you fall.' Azula (from Avatar: the Last Airbender) is one great inspiration for that. But you're completely right to be wary. I'm wary of that too. I notice how some people even write characters who are lacking in personality yet get the girl or boy straight off the bat or something like that. And that turns me off from reading further. I think in that notion that I've never created an OC before, makes me love my very first OC. Some people might think I've pictured myself in her... But the truth is, I'm far from her. I'm not as confident, not as athletic, not as compassionate. And although I get my witty moments, I'm not as sharp as her. In fact, I'm more like Morrigan in the aspect that I kind of hate people and I'm selfish. LOL. What I did attach to Ophelia is the person I would want to be like. I think every person has that kind of vision or fantasy about themselves, no?

And your critique is understandable. It's my OCD, I guess, that tells me to use complex words to make sure no word is used more than two to three times. xP

I LOVE YOU! FOR SAYING THAT MY MORRIGAN COULD BE CANON! YOU'VE MADE MY YEAR! XDD And yes, save it in the wank bank if you'd like. I totally don't mind hearing that. You can watch gore while I eat, it really doesn't bother me at all. Lol.

Yessurrr/ma'am... I'm Filipina. Though living in the US of A. Maraming maraming salamat sa supporta. S2S2

**WolvenBane08**: It's okay girl! As long as you read! Thanks! Where are you reading now? Please do tell me what you thought of it! I'd like to think that I'm on par with Nikipinz in writing! XD But her plot is just so much more extensive.

**Mudkip**: Thank you Mudkip! I hope your fins didn't mess up the keyboard. Haha. S2 Sooo wonderful to hear that you can hear the characters talking! This is one of the best compliments... And then you follow it up with wishing I was on their writing team! You're absolutely outrageous! But gaah... I wish wish wish. Yes, modding is worth it. Just ignore the pronouns 'he' and 'him' then you're good. :D

* * *

><p><strong>Song<strong>

"I'm God" by Clams Casino

* * *

><p>A song? What? I know... That's the teaser. Because I'll be using this song some time in the sequel. Here are the lyrics... Picture something of maybe what you want to happen...<p>

* * *

><p><em>How did you know?<em>  
><em>It's what I always wanted<em>,  
><em>Could never have had too many of these<em>,  
><em>Well you, quit kicking me under the table,<em>  
><em>I'm trying; will somebody make her shut up about it?<em>  
><em>Can we settle down please?<em>

_Get me outta here_,  
><em>Get me outta here,<em>  
><em>Get me outta here.<em>

_Get me outta here_,  
><em>Get me outta here,<em>  
><em>Get me outta here.<em>

_Get me outta here_,  
><em>Get me outta here,<em>  
><em>Get me outta here.<em>

_Get me outta here_,  
><em>Get me outta here,<em>  
><em>Get me outta here.<em>

_It's what..._  
><em>Of these<em>.

_Bite tongue,_  
><em>Deep breaths.<em>**  
><strong>


	23. Chapter 23 Grand Love

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* * *

><p><strong>The sequel, Grand Love, is up.<strong>

* * *

><p>\<p>

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